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University  of  California. 


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Mrs,  SARAH  P.  WALSWORTH 

Received  October,  i8g4. 
Accessions  No.^^^J^^ .      Class  No. 


^■*'': 


EXTEACTS  FEOM  NOTICES  OF  FIEST  EDITION. 


OPINIONS  OF  DISTINGUISHED  LITERARY  MEN. 

From  "Wm.  H.  McGjjffey,  Professor  at  Woodivard  Collegej'Cincinnati,  Ohio. 
"Mr.  Beeclier  sketches  character  with  a  masterly  hand;  and  the 
old,  as  well  as  the  young,  must  bear  witness  to  the  truth  and  fidelity 
of  his  portraits.  I  would  recommend  the  book  to  the  especial  atten- 
tion of  those  for  whom  it  was  designed,  and  hope  that  the  ]3atronage 
extended  to  this  may  encourage  the  author  to  make  other  efforts 
through  the  press  for  the  promotion  of -enlightened  patriotism  and 
sound  morals." 

From  D.  H.  Allen,  Professor  at  Lane  Seminary,  Cincinnati,  Ohio. 
"We  have  a  variety  of  books  designed  for  young  men,  but  I  know 
of  none  worth  half  as  much  as  this.  It  will  be  sure  to  be  read,  and 
if  read,  will  not  be  easily  forgotten  ;  and  the  young  man  who  reads 
and  remembers  it  will  always  have  before  him  a  vivid  picture  of  the 
snares  and  pitfalls  to  which  he  is  exposed.  Bvcttj  youth  sliould  pos- 
sess it.  Every  father  should  place  it  in  the  hands  of  his  sons.  It 
should  he  in  every  Sabbath-school  library,  on  board  every  steamboat, 
in  every  hotel,  and  wherever  young  men  spend  a  leisure  hour." 

From  Dr.  A.  Wylie,  President  of  the  Indiana  University,  at  Bloomiwjton. 

"The  indignant  rebukes  which  the  author  deals  out  against  that 
spirit  of  licentiousness  which  shows  itself  in  those  frivolous  Avorks 
which  he  mentions,  and  which  are  corrupting  the  taste  as  Avell  as 
the  morals  of  our  youth,  have  my  warmest  approbation.  That  the 
genius  and  wit  of  Addison  himself  should  be  set  aside  for  the  trash 
of  such  works  is  lamentable  :  it  is  ominous. 

"The  warnings  which  Mr.  Beecher  has  given  on  the  subject  of 
amusements  are  greatly  needed  ;  and  his  satire  on  that  of  '  repudiation, ' 
no  less. 

"In  short,  the  book  deserves  a  place  on  the  shelf  of  every  house- 
holder in  the  land,  to  be  read  by  the  old  as  well  as  the  young." 


Vlii  KOTICES   OF   THE   FIRST   EDITION. 

;;-     Frcm  Dr.  C.  White,  President  of  IVahash  College,  Cmwfordsvilh,  Indiana. 

*'Rcv.  H.  W.  Bcecber's  Lectures  follow  a  long  series  of  elaborate 
and  able  works  addressed  to  young  men  by  some  of  our  best  writers. 
It  is  no  small  merit  of  this  production  that  it  is  not  less  instructive 
and  impressive  than  the  best  of  those  which  have  preceded  it,  at  the 
same  time  that  it  is  totally  unlike  them  all.  Mr.  Beecher  has  given 
to  young  men  most  important  warnings  and  most  valuable  advice  with 
unusual  fidelity  and  effect.  Avoiding  the  abstract  and  formal,  he  has 
l»ointcd  out  to  the  young  the  evils  and  advantages  which  surround 
them  with  so  much  reality  and  vividness,  that  we  almost  forget  we  > 
are  reading  a  book  instead  of  looking  personally  into  the  interior  scenes 
of  a  living  and  breathing  community.  These  Lectures  will  bear  to  be 
read  often." 

(  From  Hon.  John  McLean,  Judge  of  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States. 
"I  know  of  no  work  so  admirably  calculated,  if  read  with  atten- 
tion, to  lead  young  men  to  correctness  of  thought  and  action  ;  and  I 
earnestly  recommend  it  to  the  study  of  every  young  man  who  desires 
to  become  eminently  respectable  and  useful," 

From  E.  "W.  Sehon,  General  Agent  American  Bible  Society  for  the  West. 
"The  intention  of  the  author  is  well  preserved  throughout  this 
volume,  "We  commend  the  book  for  its  boldness  and  originality  of 
thought  and  independence  of  expression.  The  young  men  of  our 
country  cannot  too  highly  appreciate  the  efforts  of  one  who  has  thus 
nobly  and  affectionately  labored  for  their  good." 

From,  James  H.  Perkins,  Pastor  of  the  Unitarian  Cliurch,  Cincinnati,  Ohio. 

*'  1  have  read  IMr.  Henry  W.  Beeclier's  Lectures  to  Young  Men  Avith 
a  great  deal  of  pleasure.  They  appear  to  me  to  contain  advice  letter 
adapted  to  our  country  than  can  he  found  in  any  similar  work  with 
uhlch  I  am  acquainted ;  and  this  advice  is  presented  in  a  style  far 
better  calculated  than  that  common  to  the  pulpit  to  attract  and 
plea.se  the  young.  I  should  certainly  recommend  the  volume  to  any 
young  man  of  my  acquaintance  as  worthy  of  frequent  perusal,  and 
trust  our  American  puljiit  may  produce  many  others  as  pleasing 
and  practical." 

From  T.  R.  Cressy,  Pastor  of  the  First  Baptist  Church,  Cincinnati,  Ohio.  ^ 

"There  is  so  much  ignorance  among  good  men  in  general,  in  all 

our  cities   and   large  towns,   of  the   astonishing  prevalence  of  vice, 

especially  of  licentiousness,  and  of  its  procuring  causes  ;   and  there 

is  such  a  false  delicacy  on  the  part  of  those  w^ho  know  these  things 


NOTICES   OF   THE   FIEST   EDITION.  IX 

to  hold  them  up  to  the  gaze  of  the  unsuspecting,  —  that  this  hook  will 
not  pass  for  its  real  Avorth.  But  it  is  a  valuable  work.  It  speaks  the 
truth  in  all  plainness.  It  slwuld  he  in  every  family  library  ;  every 
young  man  should  first  rcao?  and  then  study  it." 

Froin  J.  Blanchard,  Pastor  of  the  Fifth  Prcshyterian  Church,  Cincinnati,  Ohio. 
"The  book  is  both  pleasing  and  profitable;  filled  with  vivid 
sketches  and  delineations  of  vice,  weighty  instructions,  pithy  senti- 
ments, delicate  turns  of  thought,  and  playful  sallies  of  humor  ;  and 
in  style  and  matter  is  admirably  adapted  to  the  tastes  and  wants  of 
the  class  for  whom  it  is  written." 

From  T.  A.  Mills,  Pastor  of  the  Third  Prcshyterian  Church,  Cincinnati,  Ohio. 
"The  matter  of  this  work  is  excellent,  and  the  style  striking  and 
attractive.  The  dangers  of  young  men  are  vividly  portrayed,  and 
much  moral  instruction  given.  Many  of  the  popular  errors  of  the 
present  day  are  handled  as  they  deserve.  No  young  man  can  read 
the  book  attentively  without  profit,  and  its  perusal  would  prove  ad- 
vantageous even  to  those  who  are  inmiersed  in  the  cares  and  business 
of  life.     It  will  need  no  recommendation  after  it  becomes  known." 

From  S.  W.  Lvnde,  Pastor  of  the  Ninth  Street  Baptist  Church,  Cincinnati,  Ohio. 
"The  Lectures  to  Young  Men,  by  H.  W.  Beecher,  appear  to  be 
well  adapted  to  usefulness,  and  worthy  of  an  extensive  circulation." 

From  the  Indiana  State  Journal. 
""We  have  no  doubt  that  these  Lectui-es,  as  read,  will  produce  a 

powerful  impression The  pictures  which  glow  from  the  hand 

of  the  artist  arrest  the  eye  (so  admirable  is  the  style  and  arrange- 
ment), nor  will  the  interest  once  aroused  slacken  until  the  whole 
sketch  shall  be  contemplated.  And  the  effect  of  the  sketch  —  like 
that  of  a  visit  to  the  dens  of  iniquity  shorn  of  their  blandishments 
—  cannot  fail  to  be  of  the  most  Avholesome  admonitory  character." 

From  the  Daily  Cincinnati  Gazette. 
"  To  find  anything  new  or  peculiar  in  a  work  of  this  kind,  nowa- 
days, would  indeed  be  strange.  In  this  respect  we  w^ere  agreeably 
surprised  in  looking  over  the  book  before  us.  The  subjects,  though 
many  of  them  are  commonplace,  are  important,  and  handled  in  a 
masterly  manner.  The  author  shows  himself  acquainted  with  the 
world,  and  with  human  nature  in  all  its  varying  phases.  He  writes 
as  one  who  has  learned  the  dangers  and  temptations  that  beset  the 
young  from  personal  observation,  and  not  from  hearsay." 


X  NOTICES   OF   THE   FIRST   EDITION. 

From  the  Ohio  State  Journal,  Coluiribus,  Ohio. 
**  Tlie  garb  in  which  the  author  presents  his  subjects  makes  them 
exceedingly  attractive,  and  must  make  his  Lectures  very  popular 
when  the  public  shall  become  acquainted  with  them.  When  deliv- 
ered, it  was  not  the  design  of  the  accomplished  author  to  publish 
them  ;  but  at  the  earnest  solicitation  of  a  number  of  prominent  citi- 
zens of  Indiana,  who  were  convinced  that  they  would  have  a  highly 
benehcial  influence  in  arresting  the  progress  of  vice  and  immorality, 
he  prepared  them  for  the  press,  and  they  are  now  published  in  a  cheap 
and  neat  form,  the  typography  being  highly  creditable  to  the  Western 
press." 

From  the  Baptist  Cross  and  Journal,  Columhxis,  Ohio. 
"It  is  an  excellent  book,  and  should  be  in  the  hands  of  every 
young  man  and  of  many  parents.  But  few  of  those  who  are 
anxious  to  place  their  sons  in  large  towns  and  cities  are  aware  of 
the  temptations  which  beset  them  there,  or  of  the  many  sons  thus 
placed  who  are  unable  to  withstand  these  temptations.  This  work 
will  open  their  eyes  and  place  them  on  their  guard.  It  is  written  in 
a  popular,  captivating  style,  and  is  neatly  printed.  It  goes  right  at 
the  besetting  sins  of  the  age,  and  handles  them  without  gloves.  It 
ought  to  be  extensively  circulated." 

From  the^'Cincinnati  (/O.)  Daily  Herald. 

"  Mr.  Beecher  looks  at  things  in  his  own  way,  and  utters  his 
thoughts  in  his  own  style.  His  conceptions  are  strong,  his  speech 
direct  and  to  the  point.     The  work  is  worthy  of  anybody's  perusal.      '^ 

"  One  thing  more  before  we  leave  this  book.  It  is  entirely  practi- 
cal, and  specially  appropriate  to  the  times  ;  and  its  views,  so  far  as 
we  can  speak  from  our  own  perusal,  are  just,  and  very  forcible." 

From  the  Louisville  (Ky.)  Journal. 
"  It  is  the  most  valuable  addition  to  our  didactic  literature  that 
has  been  made  for  many  years.     Let  all  get  it  and  read  it  care- 
fully." 


NOTICES   OF   THE   THIED  EDITION.  XI 


NOTICES  OF  THE  THIED  EDITION 


From  the  Olive  Branch. 

"  Beeckee's  Lecttkes  to  You^-G  Mex.  —  One  of  the  most  able, 
interesting,  and  really  useful  works  for  young  men  is  the  volume  of 
Lectures  addressed  to  them  by  Henry  "Ward  Beecher.  Every  young 
man  should  have  a  copy  of  it.  The  second  edition  is  now  before  the 
public,  published  by  John  P.  Jewett  &  Co.,  Salem." 

From  the  New  York  Commercial  Advertiser. 
"  We  have  received  '  Lectures  to  Young  Men  on  Important  Sub- 
jects,' by  the  Kev.  H.  W.  Beecher,  the  second  edition  of  a  work  that 
has  already  effected  much  good,  and,  we  trust,  is  destined  to  achieve 
still  more.  Tlie  subjects  are  practical,  such  as  concern  all  young 
men,  especially  at  the  present  day.  The  sentiments  of  the  writer 
are  put  forth  with  much  conciseness  and  vigor  of  style,  for  Mr. 
Beecher  writes  like  one  in  earnest.  "We  could  wish  that  every  young 
man  had  the  book  put  into  his  hands,  —  especially  every  youth  whose 
avocation  or  choice  may  lead  him  to  reside  in  any  of  the  larger  cities 
of  the  Union." 

From  the  Christian  Observer,  Philadelphia. 
•'  Beecher's  Lecttkes  to  Yotjxg  Men.  —  This  is  a  new  edition 
of  an  approved  and  excellent  book,  which  it  affords  us  pleasure  to 
recommend  to  young  men  in  every  part  of  the  country.  The  author's 
thoughts,  style,  and  manner  are  his  own  ;  and  his  vivid  sketches  of 
the  evils  and  advantages  which  surround  the  young  are  replete  with 
important  coimsels  and  valuable  instruction." 

From  the  Christian  Mirror,  Portland,  Maine. 
""We  have  read  the  whole,  and  do  not  hesitate  to  indorse  the 
strong  recommendations  of  "Western  presidents  and  professors  of  col- 
leges. Judge  McLean,  and  numerous  clergymen,  Presbyterians,  Bap- 
tists, and  Unitarians.  Professor  Allen,  of  Lane  Seminary,  *  knows 
of  no  book  designed  for  young  men  worth^  half  so  much  as  this.' 


Xll  KOTICES    OF    THE    THIRD   EDITION. 

President  W5'lie  says  it  *  deserves  a  place  on  the  shelf  of  every  house- 
hold in  the  land.'  President  White  says,  'it  is  not  less  instructive 
than  the  best  of  those  which  have  preceded  it,  at  the  same  time  that 
it  is  totally  unlike  them  all,'  Judge  McLean  'knows  of  no  work  so 
admirably  calculated  to  lead  young  men  to  correctness  of  thought 
and  action.'  We  might  copy  other  testimonies  agreeing  with  these, 
but  it  is  not  necessary.  Characters  and  qualities,  whether  for  warning 
or  imitation,  are  drawn  with  uncommon  grajihic  power  and  justness 
of  delineation,  as  any  one  may  satisfy  himself  who  will  turn  to  '  the 
j)icture  gallery,'  and  survey  the  full-length  portraits  of  the  Wit,  the 
Humorist,  the  Cynic,  the  Libertine,  the  Demagogue,  and  the  Party- 
man.     Would  that  every  family  might  procure  and  peruse  it." 

From  the  Christian  Citizen. 

"Lectures  to  Young  Mex.  By  Henry  Ward  Beecher. — This 
is  a  volume  of  good  strong  Saxon  thoughts,  which  no  young  man  can 
read  without  thinking  the  like.  The  author  talks  right  into  the  avo- 
cations of  every-day  life,  as  if  he  had  been  there  himself,  and  were 
not  dealing  in  kid-glove  theories  of  life  and  duty.  Young  men,  you 
had  better  buy  that  book  ;  it  costs  but  little,  and  it  will  be  worth  a 
hundred  dollars  a  year  to  you  if  you  read  it  in  the  right  way." 

Highly  recommendatory  notices  appeared  in  the  New  York  Evange- 
list, Is^'ew  York  Observer,  Christian  World,  Christian  Eegister,  Chris- 
tian Watchman,  etc.,  etc.  We  have  not  the  papers  to  copy  them 
from. 

Froyn  the  Cliristian  Eeflector,  Boston. 
"This  is  a  'young  man's  manual'  to  the  purpose.  It  treats  of 
the  most  important  subjects  with  simple  directness,  and  yet  with  the 
hand  of  a  master.  There  are  thousands  of  young  men  in  Boston  who 
would  read  it  with  profit  and  interest,  and  not  a  few  whom  its  peru- 
sal might  save  from  'the  yawning  gulf  of  corruption  and  niin.' 
This  is  the  second  edition  of  a  work  first  publislied  in  Cincinnati, 
and  already  honored  with  the  cordial  approbation  of  many  distin- 
guished men.  It  is  a  handsomely  printed  volume  of  moderate  size, 
pages  250.  Mr.  Beecher  dedicates  the  work  to  his  honored  father, 
Lyman  Beecher,  D.  D.  Let  every  young  man  secure  this  book  and 
read  it." 

From  the  Portland  Transcript. 
"  Beecher's  Lectures  to  Young  Men.—  In  handling  his  sub- 
jects the  author  has  a  peculiar  style.     There  is  a  freshness  and  origi- 


NOTICES   OF   THE   THIRD   EDITION.  XUl 

nality  about  it  that  at  once  arrests  attention.  He  ^\Tites  with  an 
ungloved  hand  ;  presents  truth  as  truth  should  be  presented,  — 
naked.  Whatever  there  is  beautiful,  whatever  hideous  about  her, 
there  she  stands,  a  mark  for  all  to  gaze  at.  We  have  vices  enough  in 
New  England  which  need  rebuking  and  reforming.  There  are  none 
so  virtuous  who  may  not  be  profited  by  these  Lectures.  They  are  ad- 
dressed to  the  young  men  particularly,  yet  the  aged  may  glean  from 
them  many  a  useful  lesson.  We  commend  the  work  heartily  to  all. 
It  is  not  a  dry,  abstract  treatise  on  morals,  but  highly  practical 
throughout.  The  pictures  presented  are  lifelike,  —  flesh-and-blood 
portraits.  The  illustrations  are  apt  and  happy,  while  an  occasional 
vein  of  humor  comes  in  as  a  very  agreeable  seasoning.  The  author 
writes  like  one  in  earnest,  like  one  who  feels  the  importance  of  the 
duty  he  has  assumed.  A  better  work  for  the  young  we  have  rarely 
read." 

From  the  Daihj  Evening  Transcript,  Boston. 
"  These  Lectures  abound  in  important  and  impressive  truths,  ex- 
pressed in  clear  and  pungent  language.  Mr.  Beecher's  style  is  re- 
markable for  compactness  and  forcibleness.  He  occasionally  thunders 
and  lightens,  but  it  is  to  arouse  young  men  to  the  dangers  to  which 
they  are  exposed.  There  is  a  freshness  and  vivacity  about  his 
thoughts  and  language  which  must  interest  as  well  as  instruct  and 
warn  the  young.  We  would  that  every  young  man  in  our  city  — 
yea,  in  our  country  —  had  a  copy  of  these  Lectures  in  his  hands. 
They  can  scarcely  fail  to  interest  every  intelligent  reader,  nor  to  ben- 
efit every  young  man  not  lost  to  a  sense  of  duty,  not  blind  to  danger, 
not  in  love  with  vice." 

From  the  Advocate  of  Moral  Reform,  New  York. 
"Beechep.'s  Lectures  to  Young  Men.  —  Wherever  this  book 
is  known,  it  is  regarded  of  superlative  worth.  In  our  judgment  no 
young  man  should  enter  upon  city  life  without  it.  Employers,  both 
in  city  and  country,  should  place  it  in  the  hands  of  their  clerks  and 
apprentices.  Fathers  should  give  it  to  their  sons,  and  sons  should 
keep  it  next  their  Bibles,  and  engrave  its  precepts  upon  their  hearts. 
We  are  glad  to  learn  that,  although  so  recently  published,  it  has 
passed  to  a  third  edition,  and  the  demand  for  it  is  increasing." 

From  the  Congregational  Journal,  Concord,  X.  IF. 
"The  writer  draws  his  sketches  with  the  hand  of  a  master,  and 
entering  upon   his  work  with   a   hearty  interest   in   the   young,  for 


XIV  NOTICES    OF   THE   THIRD   EDITION. 

whom  he  writes  it,  he  makes  them  feel  that  he  is  honest  and  in 
earnest.  While  the  book  is  not  wanting  in  seriousness,  it  has  the 
cliarni  of  varietj' ;  and  though  it  encourages  stern  rehgious  and 
moral  principles,  the  pictures  drawn  in  it  are  so  vivid,  that  it  will  be 
read  with  the  interest  of  an  ingenious  work  of  hction.  Every  father 
should  put  it  in  his  family," 


BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR. 


YALE  LECTURES   OX   PREACHING. 

Delive'-ed  before  the  Classes  of  Theology  and  the  Faculty  of  the  Divin- 
ity School  of  Yule  Coll-ge.  12mo.  Price,  extra  cloth,  stamped  cover, 
$  1.25  ;  half  calf  or  half  morocco,  $2.50. 

"What  a  charming,  what  a  'fruity'  volume  is  this  last  venture  of  Henry  Ward 
Beccher  !  The  '  Yale  Lectures  on  Preaching '  can  be  read  by  everybody,  layman  or 
Clergyman,  with  delight.  We  can  point  to  few  recent  novels  which  are  more  enter- 
taining than  this  book."  —  IS mlun  Giubc. 

"  We  know  of  no  dozen  treatises  on  the  preacher's  work  which  contain  so  much  of 
sensible  and  valuable  instruction  as  is  compressed  into  this  little  volume." — J^Ttw 
York  Independent. 

IN  PREPARATION. 

H.  ^Y.  BEECHER'S   WORKS.    Uniform  Edition. 

This  will  inclu'^e  "Norwood,"  "Eyes  and  Ears,"  "Summer  in  the 
Soul,"  the  early  "  Star  Papers,"  "English  and  American  Speeches," 
and  other  works,  embracing  some  which  are  now  out  of  print,  and  for 
wh'ch  there  is  constant  call.  The  "Yale  Lectures  on  Preaching" 
■was  the  first  volume  of  this  set  of  books.  "  Lectures  to  Young  Men  " 
is  the  second.  "  Star  Papers  "  will  follow,  embracing  the  original  issue 
and  much  additional  matter. 


f     (^   %^    r 


LECTURES   TO  YOUiNG   xMEN, 


ON 


VAEIOUS   IMPORTANT  SUBJECTS. 


BY 


HENRY  WARD   BEECHER. 


JletD  (0t)ition, 


WITH  ADDITIONAL  LECTURE  S. 


iiir 


NEW   YOPtK: 
J.    B.    FORD    AND    COMPANY. 
1873. 


v^"^^/   S" 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1872, 

BY    J.    B.    FORD    AND    COMPANY, 

in  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


University  Press:  Welch,  Bigelow,  &  Co., 
Cambridge 


^ 


TO 


LYMAN"    BEECHEE,  D.D. 

To  you  I  owe  more  than  to  any  other  living  being.  In 
childhood  you  were  my  Parent ;  in  later  life,  my  Teacher ; 
in  manhood,  my  Companion.  To  your  affectionate  vigilance  I 
owe  my  principles,  my  knowledge,  and  that  I  am  a  Minister 
of  the  Gospel  of  Christ.  For  whatever  profit  they  derive  from 
this  httle  Book,  the  young  will  be  indebted  to  you. 


PUBLISHEES'  NOTICE. 


The  new  edition  of  Beecher's  Lectures  to  Young  Men,  now 
first  ofifered  to  the  public,  has  been  enriched  with  three  additional 
Lectures,  namely,  those  on  ''  Profane  Swearing,"  "  Vulgarity," 
and  ''  Happiness."  The  sale  of  more  than  sixty  thousand  copies 
of  the  previous  editions  is  the  best  evidence  of  the  merits  of  the 
book.  The  original  edition,  consisted  of  the  first  seven  lectures  ; 
in  1856  the  eighth  was  added,  under  the  title  of  "  Relative 
Duties"  (this  is  now  called  "Practical  Hints").  The  present 
issue,  which  will  be  the  permanent  and  standard  form  of  the 
book  in  the  Uniform  Edition  of  Mr.  Beecher's  works,  con- 
tains eleven  lectures.  In  order  to  show  the  estimation  in 
which  the  book  has  always  been  held,  it  has  been  deemed  best 
to  reproduce  some  of  the  notices  of  the  earlier  editions,  those 
of  the  first  largely  from  the  Western,  of  the  third  from  the 
Eastern  papers. 

Mr.  Beecher  also  adds  to  his  former  Prefaces  some  reminis- 
cences of  the  origin  of  the  Lectures. 


PEEFA^E. 

\ 

This  volume  is  the  eldest-born  of  my  books.  It  dates  from 
1844,  and  originally  contained  only  the  first  seven  Lectures.  , 

The  Lectures  were  dehvered  on  successive  Sunday  nights  ; 
the  church  was  crowded  during  the  series, — a  thing  that  sel- 
dom happened  dm-ing  my  "Western  life.  Indianapolis  in  1844 
contained  about  four  thousand  inhabitants,*  and  had  not  less 
than  twelve  churches  of  eight  different  denominations.  The 
audiences  of  the  Second  Presbyterian  Church,  of  which  I  was 
pastor,  did  not  average  five  hundred  in  number  during  the  eight 
years  of  my  settlement.  But  five  hundred  was  regarded  as  a 
large  audience. 

The  Lectures  were  written,  each  one  during  the  week  preced- 
ing the  day  of  its  delivery.  I  well  remember  the  enjoyment 
which  I  had  in  their  preparation.  They  were  children  of  early 
enthusiasm.  I  can  see  before  me  now,  as  plainly  as  then,  the 
room  which  in  our  little  ten-foot  home  served  at  once  as  parlor, 
study,  and  bedroom ;  and  the  writing-chair,  the  place  by  the 
window,  and  the  skeleton  bookcase,  with  a  few  books  scattered 
on  solitary  shelves,  hke  a  handful  of  people  in  church  on  a  rainy 
day. 

As  soon  as  their  publication  was  determined  upon,  I  sat  down 
to  prepare  them  for  the  press.  "  Now,"  thought  I,  "  it  will  be  right 
to  see  what  other  authors  have  said  on  these  subjects.  Having  first 
done  the  best  I  could,  it  will  be  fair  to  improve  by  hints  from 

*  It  now  numbers  from  sixty  to  seventy  thousand. 


XVI  PREFACE. 

others."  Dr.  Isaac  Barrow's  sermons  had  long  been  favorites 
of  mine.  I  was  fascinated  by  the  exhaustive  thoroughness  of  his 
treatment  of  subjects,  by  a  certain  calm  and  homely  dignity,  and 
by  his  marvellous  procession  of  adjectives.  Ordinarily,  adjectives 
are  the  parasites  of  substantives,  —  courtiers  that  hide  or  smother 
the  king  with  blandishments, —  but  in  Barrow's  hands  they  be- 
came a  useful  and  indeed  quite  respectable  element  of  composi- 
tion. Considering  my  early  partiality  for  Barrow,  I  have  always 
regarded  it  a  w^onder  that  I  escaped  so  largely  from  the  snares 
and  temptations  of  that  rhetorical  demon,  the  Adjective. 

Barrow  has  four  sermons  upon  "  Industry."  I  began  reading 
them.  Before  half  finishing  the  first  one,  I  found  that  he  had 
said  everything  I  had  thought  of  and  a  good  deal  more.  In 
utter  disgust  I  threw  my  manuscript  across  the  room  and  saw  it 
slide  under  the  bookcase;  and  there  it  would  have  remained, 
had  not  my  wife  pulled  it  forth.  After  many  weeks,  however,  I 
crept  back  to  it,  led  by  this  curious  encouragement.  A  young 
mechanic  in  my  parish  was  reading  with  enthusiasm  a  volume  of 
lectures  to  young  men,  then  just  published.  Every  time  I  met 
him  he  was  eloquent  with  their  praise.  At  length,  by  his  per- 
suasion, I  consented  to  read  them,  and  soon  opened  my  eyes 
with  amazement.  After  going  through  one  or  two  of  them,  I 
said,  "  If  iliese  lectures  can  do  good,  I  am  sure  mine  may  take 
their  chance!"  I  resumed  their  preparation,  —  but  I  kept  Bar- 
row shut  up  on  the  shelf ! 

A  young  man,  foreman  in  the  printing-ofiice  of  the  State  Jour- 
nal, requested  me  to  allow  him  to  publish  the  Lectures,  as  the 
means  of  setting  him  up  as  a  publisher.  The  effect,  however, 
was  just  the  reverse.  Being  without  experience  or  capital,  an 
edition  of  three  thousand  crushed  him ;  and  the  lectures  went 
to  John  P.  Jewett,  of  Boston. 

The  book  has  had,  in  all,  an  extraordinary  company  of  pub- 
lishers :  first,  Thomas  B,  Cutler,  of  Indianapolis ;  then  John  P. 
Jewett,  of  Bt)ston ;  then  Brooks  Brothers,  of  Salem,  Mass.  ; 
then  Derby  and  Jackson,  of  New  York ;  then  Ticknor  and  Fields, 
of  Boston ;  and  finally,  J.  B.  Ford  &  Co.,  of  New  York,  who 
include  it  in  their  Uniform  Edition  of  all  my  works.  It  has  had 
a  wide  circulation  in  foreign  lands,  and  I  hope  may  yet  find  a 


PREFACE.  Xvii 

field  of  further  usefulness  at  home.  My  present  English  pub- 
lishers are  Messrs.  Thomas  Nelson  and  Sons  of  Edinburgh  and 
London,  whose  rights  I  trust  may  be  courteously  observed  by 
the  trade  there,  which  I  regret  to  say  has  not  been  the  case 
with  others  of  my  books  in  their  hands. 

HENRY  WAED  BEECHER. 

Brooklyn,  N.  Y.,  November  1,  1S72. 


PKEFACE  TO   THE  EIEST  EDITIOK 


Having  watched  the  courses  of  those  who  seduce  the  young, — 
their  arts,  their  blandishments,  their  pretences ;  having  witnessed 
the  beginning  and  consummation  of  ruin,  almost  in  the  same 
year,  of  many  young  men,  naturally  well  disposed,  whose  down- 
fall began  with  the  appearances  of  innocence,  —  I  felt  an  earnest 
desire,  if  I  could,  to  raise  the  suspicion  of  the  young,  and  to 
direct  their  reason  to  the  arts  by  which  they  are  with  such  facility 
destroyed. 

I  ask  every  young  man  who  may  read  this  book  not  to  sub- 
mit his  judgment  to  mine,  not  to  hate  because  I  denounce,  nor 
blindly  to  follow  me ;  but  to  weigh  my  reasons,  that  he  may 
form  his  own  judgment.  I  only  claim  the  place  of  a  companion ; 
and  that  I  may  gain  his  ear,  I  have  sought  to  present  truth  in 
those  forms  which  best  please  the  young  ;  and  though  I  am  not 
without  hope  of  satisfying  the  aged  and  the  wise,  my  whole 
thought  has  been  to  carry  with  me  the  intelligent  sympathy  of 

YOUNG    MEN. 

India^'apolis,  1845. 


w 


PEEFACE  TO   THE   SECOND  EDITIOK 


It  is  proper  to  remark,  that  many  of  the  statements  in  these 
Lectures,  which  may  seem  severe  or  overdrawn  in  JSTew  England, 
are  hterally  true  in  the  West.  Insensibihty  to  pubhc  indebted- 
ness, gambhng  among  the  members  of  the  bar,  the  ignoble  arts 
of  politicians,  —  I  know  not  if  such  things  are  found  at  the 
East;  but  within  one  year  past  an  edition  of  three  thousand 
copies  of  these  Lectures  has  been  distributed  through  the  West, 
and  it  has  been  generally  noticed  in  the  papers,  and  I  have  never 
heard  objections  from  any  quarter  that  the  canvas  has  been  too 
strongly  colored. 

Indianapolis,  1846. 


J^ 


t.^ '  ^A^/ 


i#r 


K.^4 


e,^" 


m^A 


CONTENTS. 


♦ 

Page 

I.    Industry  and  Idleness 1 

II.    Twelve  Causes  of  Dishonesty  ....  28 

III.    Six  Warnings 52 

lY.    Portrait  Gallery 72 

Y.    Gamblers  and  Gambling 96 

YI.    The  Strange  Woman 124 

YII.    Popular  Amusements ,160 

YIII.    Practical  Hints 189 

IX.    Profane  Swearing 219 

X.    YULGARITY 236 

XI.    IIappixess 256 


\ .^u^iijru^  -^ - •-'-'^'  ^  --  -'-^  ^rr--  •'^  ^7^ 


Lectuees  to  Xou^g  Mer 


LECTUEE  I.  ^ 

INDUSTRY   AND    IDLENESS. 

"Give  us  this  day  our  daily  bread."  —  Matt.  vi.  11. 

"This  we  commanded  you,  that  if  any  would  not  work, 
neither  should  he  eat.  for  we  hear  that  there  are  some 
which  walk  among  you  disorderly,  working  not  at  all,  but 
are  busybodies.     now  them  that  are  such  we  command  and 

EXHORT  BY  OUR  LORD  JeSUS   ChRIST,  THAT  WITH   QUIETNESS   THEY 
WORK,  AND  EAT  THEIR  OWN  BREAD."  —  2  TheSS.  iii.   10-12. 

^^^^?f-?HE  bread  which  we  solicit  of  God,  he  gives 

^'K.,        ]  ]   us   through    our    own    industry.      Prayer 

^^>.j;:^-/:;^    SOWS  it,  and  Industry  reaps  it. 

^M^^3H^       As  industry  is  habitual  activity  in  some 

useful  pursuit,  so  not  only  inactivity,  but  also  all  efforts 

without  the  design  of  usefulness,  are  of  tlie  nature  of 

idleness.    The  supine  sluggard  is  no  more  indolent  than 

the  bustling  do-nothing./  Men  may  walk  much,  and  read  ~]^ 

much,  and  talk  much,  and  pass  the  day  without  an  unoc-    /  r^ 

cupied  moment,  and  yet  be  substantially  idle  ;  because 

industry  requires,  at  least,  the  intention  of  usefulness.^ 

But  gadding,  gazing,  lounging,  mere  pleasure-mongering,       ^ 

readini^  for  the  relief  of  ennui,  —  these  are  as  useless  as        ^ 
.  .   .  .  P 

sleeping,  or  dozing,  or  the  stupidity  of  a  surfeit.  -d- 


3 


'A  LECTUEES   TO  YOUXG  MEN. 

There  are  many  grades  of  idleness,  and  veins  of  it 
run  tLroiigli  the  most  industrious  life.  We  shall  in- 
dulge in  some  descriptions  of  the  various  classes  of 
idlers,  and  leave  the  reader  to  judge,  if  he  be  an  indo- 
lent man,  to  which  class  he  belongs. 

1.  The  lazy  man.  He  is  of  a  very  ancient  pedigree, 
for  his  family  is  minutely  described  by  Solomon  :  How 
long  icilt  thou  slecjJ,  0  sluggard  ?  when  toilt  thou  arise 
out  of  thy  sleep  ?  This  is  the  language  of  impatience ; 
the  speaker  has  been  trying  to  awaken  him,  —  pulling, 
pushing,  rolling  him  over,  and  shouting  in  his  ear ;  but 
all  to  no  purpose.  He  soliloquizes  whether  it  is  possi- 
ble for  the  man  ever  to  wake  up  !  At  length  the  sleeper 
drawls  out  a  dozing  petition  to  be  let  alone :  Yet  a 
little  slee'p,  a  little  slumher,  a  little  folding  of  the  hands 
to  sleep;  and  the  last  words  confusedly  break  into  a 
snore,  —  that  somnolent  lullaby  of  rejDose.  Long  ago 
the  birds  have  finished  their  matins,  the  sun  has  ad- 
vanced full  hidi,  the  dew  has  c^one  from  the  OTass,  and 
the  labors  of  industry  are  far  in  progress,  when  our 
sluggard,  awakened  by  his  very  efforts  to  maintain 
sleep,  slowly  emerges  to  perform  life's  great  duty  of 
feeding,  with  him  second  only  in  imj^ortance  to  sleep. 
And  now,  well  rested  and  suitably  nourished,  surely  he 
will  abound  in  labor.  Nay,  the  sluggard  luill  not  plough 
hij  reaso7i  of  the  cold.  It  is  yet  early  spring ;  there  is 
ice  in  the  North,  and  the  winds  are  hearty;  his  tender 
skin  shrinks  from  exposure,  and  he  waits  for  milder 
days,  envying  the  residents  of  tropical  climates,  where 
cold  never  comes  and  harvests  wave  spontaneously. 
He  is  valiant  at  sleeping  and  at  the  trencher ;  but 
for  other  courage,   the  slothfid  man  saith,  There  is  a 


INDUSTRY   AND   IDLENESS.  3 

lion  icitliout ;  I  shall  he  slain  in  the  street.  He  has  not 
been  out  to  see ;  but  lie  heard  a  noise,  and  resolutely 
betakes  himself  to  prudence.  Under  so  thriving  a 
manager,  so  alert  in  the  morning,  so  busy  through  the 
day,  and  so  enterprising,  we  might  anticipate  the  thrift 
of  his  husbandry.  /  ivent  by  the  field  of  the  slothful,  and 
hy  the  vineyard  of  the  man  void  of  understanding  ;  and 
lo  !  it  ivas  all  groiun  over  tvith  thorns,  and  nettles  had 
covered  the  face  thereof  and  the  stone  wall  thereof  was 
broken  down.  To  complete  the  picture,  only  one  thing 
more  is  wanted, —  a  description  of  his  house,  —  and 
then  we  should  have,  at  one  view,  the  lazy  man,^I]Lis 
farm  and  house.  Solomon  has  given  us  that  also  :  By 
mueh  slothfulness  the  huilding  dccayeth ;  and  through 
idleness  of  the  hands  the  house  dro2:)2oet]i  through.  Let 
all  this  be  put  together,  and  possibly  some  reader  may 
find  an  unpleasant  resemblance  to  his  own  affairs. 

He  sleeps  long  and  late,  he  wakes  to  stupidity,  with 
indolent  eyes  sleepily  rolling  over  neglected  work,  neg- 
lected because  it  is  too  cold  in  spring,  and  too  hot  in 
summer,  and  too  laborious  at  all  times,  —  a  great  cow- 
ard in  danger,  and  therefore  very  blustering  in  safety. 
His  lands  run  to  waste,  his  fences  are  dilapidated,  his 
crops  chiefly  of  weeds  and  brambles  ;  a  shattered  house, 
the  side  leaning  over  as  if  wishing,  like  its  owner,  to 
lie  down  to  sleep ;  the  chimney  tumbling  down,  the 
roof  breaking  in,  with  moss  and  gTass  sprouting  in  its 
crevices ;  the  well  without  pump  or  windlass,  a  trap 
for  their  children.     This  is  the  very  castle  of  indolence. 

2.  Another  idler  as  useless,  but  vastly  more  active, 
than  the  last,  attends  closely  to  every  one's  business 
except  his  own.     His  wife  earns  the  children's  bread 


4  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG  MEN. 

and  his,  procures  lier  own  raiment  and  his ;  she  pro- 
cures the  wood,  she  procures  the  water,  while  he,  with 
hands  in  his  pocket,  is  busy  watching  the  building  of  a 
neighbor's  barn,  or  advising  another  how  to  trim  and 
train  his  vines ;  or  he  has  heard  of  sickness  in  a  friend's 
family,  and  is  there  to  suggest  a  hundred  cure?,  and  to 
do  everything  but  to  help ;  he  is  a  spectator  of  shooting- 
matches,  a  stickler  for  a  ring  and  fair  play  at  every 
fight.  He  knows  all  the  stories  of  all  the  families  that 
live  in  the  town.  If  he  can  catch  a  stranger  at  the 
tavern  in  a  rainy  day,  he  pours  out  a  strain  of  informa- 
tion, a  pattering  of  words  as  thick  as  the  rain-drops  out 
of  doors.  He  has  good  advice  to  everybody,  how  to 
save,  how  to  make  money,  how  to  do  everything ;  he 
can  tell  the  saddler  about  his  trade  ;  he  gives  advice  to 
the  smith  about  his  work,  and  goes  over  with  him  when 
it  is  forged  to  see  the  carriage-maker  put  it  on  ;  suggests 
improvements,  advises  this  paint  or  that  varnish,  criti- 
cises the  finish,  or  praises  the  trimmings.  He  is  a  vio- 
lent reader  of  newspapers,  almanacs,  and  receipt-books  ; 
and  with  scraps  of  history  and  mutilated  anecdotes,  he 
faces  the  very  schoolmaster,  and  gives  up  only  to  the 
volubility  of  the  oily  village  lawyer  :  few  have  the  hardi- 
hood to  match  hiin. 

And  thus  every  day  he  bustles  through  his  multi- 
farious idleness,  and  completes  his  circle  of  visits  as 
regularly  as  the  pointers  of  a  clock  visit  each  figure  on 
the  dial-plate ;  but  alas !  the  clock  forever  tells  man 
the  useful  lesson  of  time  passing  steadily  away  and 
returning  never ;  but  what  useful  tiling  do  these  busy, 
buzzing  idlers  perform  ? 

3.     We   introduce   another  idler.      He   follows   no 


IXDUSTRY   AND   IDLENESS.  5 

voGation;  lie  only  follows  those  who  do.  Sometimes 
he  sweeps  along  the  streets  with  consequential  gait, 
sometimes  perfumes  it  with  wasted  odors  of  tobacco. 
He  also  haunts  sunny  benches  or  breezy  piazzas.  His 
business  is  to  sec ;  his  desire  to  be  seen,  and  no  one 
fails  to  see  him,  —  so  gaudily  dressed,  his  hat  sitting 
aslant  upon  a  wilderness  of  hair,  like  a  bird  half 
startled  from  its  nest,  and  every  thread  arranged  to  pro- 
voke attention.  He  is  a  man  of  honor ;  not  that  he 
keeps  his  word  or  shrinks  from  meanness.  He  de- 
frauds his  laundress,  his  tailor,  and  his  landlord.  He 
drinks  and  smokes  at  other  men's  expense.  He  gam- 
bles and  swears,  and  fights  —  when  he  is  too  drunk  to 
be  afraid ;  but  still  he  is  a  man  of  honor,  for  he  has 
whiskers  and  looks  fierce,  wears  mustachios,  and  says. 
Upon  my  lionor,  sir  ;  Do  you  clouM  my  honor,  sir  ? 

Thus  he  appears  by  day:  by  niglit  he  does  not 
appear ;  he  may  be  dimly  seen  flitting ;  his  voice  may 
be  heard  loud  in  the  carousal  of  some  refection-cellar, 
or  above  the  songs  and  uj)roar  of  a  midnight  return, 
and  home  staggering. 

4.  The  next  of  this  brotherhood  excites  our  pity. 
He  began  life  most  thriftily ;  for  his  rising  family  he 
was  gathering  an  ample  subsistence ;  but,  involved  in 
other  men's  affairs,  he  went  down  in  their  ruin.  Late 
in  life  he  begins  once  more,  and  at  length,  just  secure 
of  an  easy  competence,  his  ruin  is  compassed  again. 
He  sits  down  quietly  under  it,  complains  of  no  one, 
envies  no  one,  refuseth  the  cup,  and  is  even  more  pure 
in  morals  than  in  better  days.  He  moves  on  from  day 
to  day,  as  one  who  walks  under  a  spell :  it  is  the  spell 
of  despondency  wliich  nothing  can  disencliant  or  arouse. 


6  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG   MEN. 

He  neither  seeks  work  nor  refuses  it.  He  wanders 
among  men  a  dreaming  gazer,  poorly  clad,  always  kind, 
always  irresolute,  able  to  plan  nothing  for  himself  nor 
to  execute  what  others  have  planned  for  him.  He  lives 
and  he  dies,  a  discouraged  man,  and  the  most  harmless 
and  excusable  of  all  idlers. 

5.  I  have  not  mentioned  the  fashionable  idler,  whose 
riches  defeat  every  object  for  which  God  gave  him 
birth.  He  has  a  fine  form  and  manly  beauty,  and  the 
chief  end  of  life  is  to  display  them.  With  notable 
diligence  he  ransacks  the  market  for  rare  and  curious 
fabrics,  for  costly  seals  and  chains  and  rings.  A  coat 
poorly  fitted  is  the  unpardonable  sin  of  his  creed.  He 
meditates  upon  cravats,  employs  a  profound  discrimina- 
tion in  selecting  a  hat  or  a  vest,  and  adopts  his  conclu- 
sions upon  the  tastefulness  of  a  button  or  a  collar  with 
the  deliberation  of  a  statesman.  Thus  caparisoned,  he 
saunters  in  fashionable  galleries,  or  flaunts  in  stylish 
equipage,  or  parades  the  streets  with  simpering  belles, 
or  delights  their  itching  ears  with  compliments  of  flat- 
tery or  with  choicely  culled  scandal.  He  is  a  reader  of 
fictions,  if  they  be  not  too  substantial,  a  writer  of 
cards  and  hillet-doux,  and  is  especially  conspicuous  in 
albums.  Gay  and  frivolous,  rich  and  useless,  polished 
till  the  enamel  is  worn  off,  his  whole  life  serves  only  to 
make  him  an  animated  puppet  of  pleasure.  He  is  as 
corrupt  in  imagination  as  he  is  refined  in  manners ;  he 
is  as  selfish  in  private  as  he  is  generous  in  j)ublic ;  and 
even  what  he  gives  to  another  is  given  for  his  own  sake. 
He  worships  where  fashion  worshi]3s :  to-day  at  the 
theatre,  to-morrow  at  the  church,  as  either  exhibits  the 
whitest  hand  or  the  most  polished  actor.     A  gaudy. 


INDUSTRY  AND   IDLENESS.  7 

active,  and  indolent  butterfly,  he  flutters  without  in- 
dustry from  flower  to  flower,  until  summer  closes  and 
frosts  sting  him,  and  he  sinks  down  and  dies,  unthought 
of  and  unremembered. 

6.  One  other  portrait  should  be  drawn  of  a  business 
man,  who  wishes  to  subsist  by  his  occupation,  while  he 
attends  to  everything  else.  If  a  sporting  club  goes  to 
the  woods,  he  must  go.  He  has  set  his  line  in  every 
hole  in  the  river,  and  dozed  in  a  summer  day  under 
every  tree  along  its  bank.  He  rejoices  in  a  riding- 
party,  a  sleigh-ride,  a  summer  frolic,  a  winter's  glee. 
He  is  everybody's  friend,  universally  good-natured, 
forever  busy  where  it  will  do  him  no  good,  and  remiss 
where  his  interests  require  activity.  He  takes  amuse- 
ment for  his  main  business,  which  other  men  employ 
as  a  relaxation;  and  the  serious  labor  of  life,  which 
other  men  are  mainly  employed  in,  he  knows  only  as  a 
relaxation.  After  a  few  years  he  fails,  his  good-nature 
is  something  clouded ;  and  as  age  sobers  his  buoyancy 
without  repairing  his  profitless  habits,  he  soon  sinks  to 
a  lower  grade  of  laziness  and  to  ruin. 

It  would  be  endless  to  describe  the  wiles  of  idleness, 
—  how  it  creeps  upon  men,  how  secretly  it  mingles 
with  their  pursuits,  how  much  time  it  purloins  from 
the  scholar,  from  the  professional  man,  and  from  the 
artisan.  It  steals  minutes,  it  clips  off  the  edges  of 
hours,  and  at  length  takes  possession  of  days.  Where 
it  has  its  will,  it  sinks  and  drowns  employment ;  but 
where  necessity  or  ambition  or  duty  resists  such  vio- 
lence, then  indolence  makes  labor  heavy,  scatters  the 
attention,  puts  us  to  our  tasks  with  wandering  thoughts, 
with  irresolute  purpose,  and  with  dreamy  visions.     Thus 


8  LECTURES   TO  YOUNG  MEN. 

when  it  may,  it  plucks  out  hours  and  rules  over  them ; 
and  wliere  this  may  not  be,  it  lurks  around  them  to  im- 
pede the  sway  of  industry,  and  turn  her  seeming  toils 
to  subtle  idleness.  Against  so  mischievous  an  enchant- 
ress we  should  be  duly  armed.  I  shall,  therefore,  describe 
the  advantages  of  industry  and  the  evils  of  indolence. 
(  1.  A  hearty  industry  promotes  happiness.)  Some 
men  of  the  greatest  industry  are  unha23py  from  infe- 
licity of  disposition  ;  they  are  morose,  or  suspicious,  or 
envious.  Such  qualities  make  happiness  impossible 
^  VNunder  any  circumstances. 

>>  '  Health  is  the  platform  on  wdiich  all  happiness  must 

)  ^     be  built.     Good  appetite,  good  digestion,  and  good  sleep 

^T**  are  the  elements  of  health,  and  industry  confers  them. 

As  use  polishes  metals,  so  labor  the  faculties,  until  the 

body  performs   its   unimpeded   functions  with   elastic 

cheerfulness  and  hearty  enjoyment. 

Buoyant  spirits  are  an  element  of  happiness,  and 
activity  produces  them ;  but  they  fly  away  from  slug- 
gishness, as  fixed  air  from  open  wine.  •  Men's  spirits 
are  like  water,  which  sparkles  when  it  runs,  but  stag- 
nates in  still  pools,  and  is  mantled  with  green,  and 
breeds  corruption  and  filth. )  The  applause  of  conscience, 
the  self-respect  of  pride,  the  consciousness  of  indepen- 
dence, a  manly  joy  of  usefulness,  the  consent  of  every 
faculty  of  the  mind  to  one's  occupation,  and  their  grati- 
fication in  it,  —  these  constitute  a  happiness  superior  to 
the  fever-flashes  of  vice  in  its  brightest  moments.  .  After 
an  experience  of  ages,  which  has  taught  nothing  diflerent 

[from  this,  men  should  have  learned  that  satisfaction  is 
not  the  product  of  excess,  or  of  indolence,  or  of  riches, 
but  of  industry,  temperance,  and  usefulness.    Every  vil- 


INDUSTRY   AND   IDLENESS.  9 

lage  has  instances  whicli  ought  to  teach  young  men  that 
he  who  goes  aside  from  the  simplicity  of  nature  and 
the  purity  of  virtue,  to  wallow  in  excesses,  carousals, 
and  surfeits,  at  length  misses  the  errand  of  his  life, 
and,  sinking  with  shattered  body  prematurely  to  a  dis- 
honored grave,  mourns  that  he  mistook  exhilaration  for 
satisfaction,  and  abandoned  the  very  home  of  happiness 
when  he  forsook  the  labors  of  useful  industry. 

The  poor  man  with  industry  is  happier  than  the 
rich  man  in  idleness  ;  for  labor  makes  the  one  more 
manly,  and  riches  unmans  the  other.  The  slave  is 
often  happier  than  the  master,  who  is  nearer  undone  by 
license  than  his  vassal  by  toil  Luxurious  couches, 
plushy  carpets  from  Oriental  looms,  pillows  of  eider- 
down, carriages  contrived  with  cushions  and  springs 
to  make  motion  imperceptible,  —  is  the  indolent  mas- 
ter of  these  as  happy  as  the  slave  that  wove  the  car- 
pet, the  Indian  who  hunted  the  Northern  flock,  or  the 
servant  who  drives  the  pampered  steeds  ?  Let  those 
who  envy  the  gay  revels  of  city  idlers,  and  pine  for 
their  masquerades,  their  routs,  and  their  operas,  expe- 
rience for  a  week  the  lassitude  of  their  satiety,  the 
unarousable  torpor  of  their  life  when  not  under  a  fiery 
stimulus,  their  desperate  ennui  and  restless  somnolency, 
and  tliey  would  gladly  flee  from  their  haunts  as  from  a 
land  of  cursed  enchantment. 

2.  Industry  is  the  parent  of  thrift.  In  the  over- 
burdened states  of  Europe,  the  severest  toil  often  only 
suffices  to  make  life  a  wretclied  vacillation  between 
food  and  famine  ;  but  in  America^jndush^^Msj3^^ 

Jthough  God  has  stored  the  w^orld  with  an  endless 

variety  of  riches  for  man's  wants,  he  has  made  them  all 
— pfe — . — 


10  LECTURES   TO    YOUNG   MEN. 

.accessible  only  to  industry-  The  food  we  eat,  the  rai- 
ment which  covers  us,  the  house  which  protects,  must 
be  secured  by  diligence.  To  tempt  man  yet  more  to 
industry,  every  product  of  the  earth  has  a  susceptibil- 
ity of  improvement ;  so  that  man  not  only  obtains  the 
gifts  of  nature  at  the  j^rice  of  labor,  but  these  gifts  be- 
come more  precious  as  we  bestow  upon  them  greater 
sldll  and  cultivation.  The  wheat  and  maize  which 
crown  our  ample  fields  were  food  fit  but  for  birds,  be- 
fore man  perfected  them  by  labor.  The  fruits  of  the 
forest  and  the  hedge,  scarcely  tempting  to  the  extrem- 
est  hunger,  after  skill  has  dealt  with  them  and  trans- 
planted them  to  the  orchard  and  the  garden,  allure 
every  sense  with  the  richest  colors,  odors,  and  flavors. 
The  world  is  full  of  germs  which  man  is  set  to  develop ; 
and  there  is  scarcely  an  assignable  limit  to  which  the 
hand  of  skill  and  labor  may  not  bear  the  powers  of 
nature. 

The  scheming  speculations  of  the  last  ten  years  have 
produced  an  aversion  among  the  young  to  the  slow  ac- 
cumulations of  ordinary  industry,  and  fired  them  with 
a  conviction  that  shrewdness,  cunning,  and  bold  ven- 
tures are  a  more  manly  way  to  wealth.  There  is  a 
swarm  of  men,  bred  in  the  heats  of  adventurous  times, 
whose  thoughts  scorn  pence  and  farthings,  and  who 
humble  themselves  to  speak  of  dollars :  hundreds  and 
t?wusands  are  their  words.  They  are  men  of  great  oper- 
ations. Forty  thousand  dollars  is  a  moderate  profit  of 
a  single  speculation.  They  mean  to  own  the  bank, 
and  to  look  down  before  they  die  upon  Astor  and 
Girard.  The  young  farmer  becomes  almost  ashamed 
to  meet  his  schoolmate,  whose  stores  line  whole  streets. 


INDUSTRY  AXD   IDLENESS.  11 

whose  stocks  are  in  every  bank  and  company,  and 
whose  increasing  money  is  already  wellnigh  inestimable. 
But  if  the  butterfly  derides  the  bee  in  summer,  he  was 
never  known  to  do  it  in  the  lowering  days  of  autumn. 

Every  few  years  commerce  has  its  earthquakes,  and 
the  tall  and  toppling  warehouses  which  haste  ran  up 
are  first  shaken  down.  The  hearts  of  men  fail  them 
for  fear ;  and  the  suddenly  rich,  made  more  suddenly 
poor,  fill  the  land  with  their  loud  laments.  But  noth- 
ing strange  has  happened.  When  the  whole  story  of 
commercial  disasters  is  told,  it  is  only  found  out  that 
they  who  slowly  amassed  the  gains  of  useful  industry 
built  upon  a  rock,  and  they  who  flung  together  the 
imaginary  millions  of  commercial  speculations  built 
upon  the  sand.  "When  times  grew  dark,  and  the  winds 
came,  and  the  floods  descended  and  beat  upon  them 
both,  the  rock  sustained  the  one,  and  the  shifting  sand 
let  down  the  other(  If  a  young  man  has  no  higher 
ambition  in  life  than  riches,  industry  —  plain,  rugged 
brown-faced,  homely-clad,  old-fashioned  industry  — 
must  be  courted. '  Young  men  are  pressed  with  a  most 
unprofitable  haste.  They  wish  to  reap  before  they 
have  ploughed  or  sown.  Everything  is  driving  at  such 
a  rate  that  tliey  have  become  giddy.  Laborious  occupa- 
tions are  avoided.  Money  is  to  be  earned  in  genteel 
leisure,  with  the  help  of  fine  clothes,  and  by  the  soft 
seductions  of  smooth  hair  and  luxuriant  whiskers. 

Parents,  equally  wild,  foster  the  delusion.  Shall  the 
promising  lad  be  apprenticed  to  his  uncle,  the  black- 
smith ?  The  sisters  think  the  blacksmith  so  very 
smutty;  the  mother  shrinks  from  the  ungentility  of 
his  swarthy  labor  ;  the  father,  weighing  the  matter  pru- 


12  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG  >  MEN. 

dentially  deeper,  finds  that  a  vjliole  life  had  been  spent, 
in  earning  the  uncle's  property.  These  sagacious  par- 
ents, wishing  the  tree  to  bear  its  fruit  before  it  has 
ever  blossomed,  regard  the  long  delay  of  industrious 
trades  as  a  fatal  objection  to  them.  The  son,  then, 
must  be  a  rich  merchant,  or  a  popular  lawyer,  or  a  bro- 
ker ;  and  these  only  as  the  openings  to  speculation. 

Young  business  men  are  often  educated  in  two  very 
unthrifty  species  of  contempt,  —  a  contempt  for  small 
gains,  and  a  contempt  for  hard  labor.  To  do  one's  own 
•  errands,  to  wlieel  one's  own  barrow,  to  be  seen  with  a 
bundle,  bag,  or  burden,  is  disreputable.  ]\Ien  are  so 
sharp  nowadays  that  they  can  compass  by  their 
shrewd  heads  what  their  fathers  used  to  do  with  their 
heads  and  hands. 

3.  Industry  gives  character  and  credit  to  the  young. 
The  reputable  portions  of  society  have  maxims  of  pru- 
dence by  Avhich  the  young  are  judged  and  admitted  to 
their  good  opinion.  Does  he  regard  his  luorcl .?  7s  he 
industrious  ?  Is  he  economical  ?  Is  he  free  from  im- 
moral hcdjiis  t  The  answer  which  a  young  man's  con- 
duct  gives  to  these  questions  settles  his  reception  among 
)good  men.  Experience  has  shown  that  the  other  good 
i  qualities  of  veracity,  frugality,  and  modesty  are  apt  to 
I  be  associated  with  industry.  A  prudent  man  would 
scarcely  be  persuaded  that  a  listless,  lounging  fellow 
would  be  economical  or  trustworthy.  An  employer 
w^ould  judge  wisely  that,  where  there  was  little  regard 
for  time  or  for  occupation,  there  would  be  as  little, 
upon  temptation,  for  honesty  or  veracity.  Pilferings 
of  the  till  and  robberies  are  fit  deeds  for  idle  clerks 
and  lazy  apprentices.     Industry  and  knavery  are  some- 


INDUSTEY  AND    IDLENESS.  13 

times  found  associated ;  but  men  wonder  at  it  as  at  a 
strange  thing.  The  epithets  of  society  which  betoken 
its  experience  are  all  in  favor  of  industry.  Thus  the 
terms,  "  a  hard-working  man/'  "  an  industrious  man,"  "  a 
laborious  artisan,"  are  employed  to  mean  an  honest  man, 
a  trustivorthy  man. 

I  may  here,  as  well  as  anywhere,  impart  the  secret 
of  what  is  called  good  and  had  luck.  There  are  men 
who,  supposing  Providence  to  have  an  implacable  spite 
against  them,  bemoan  in  the  poverty  of  a  wretched  old 
age  the  misfortunes  of  their  lives.  Luck  forever  ran 
against  them,  and  for  others.  One,  with  a  good  pro- 
fession, lost  his  luck  in  the  river,  where  he  idled  away 
his  time  a-fishing  when  he  should  have  been  in  the 
office.  Another,  with  a  good  trade,  perpetually  burnt 
up  his  luck  by  his  hot  temper,  which  provoked  all  his 
customers  to  leave  him.  Another,  with  a  lucrative 
business,  lost  his  luck  by  amazing  diligence  at  every- 
thing but  his  business.  Another,  who  steadily  fol- 
lowed his  trade,  as  steadily  followed  his  bottle.  An- 
other, who  was  honest  and  constant  to  his  work,  erred  by 
perpetual  misjudgments,  —  he  lacked  discretion.  Hun- 
dreds lose  their  luck  by  indorsing,  by  sanguine  specula- 
tions, by  trusting  fraudulent  men,  and  by  dishonest 
gains.  A  man  never  has  good  luck  who  has  a  bad 
wife.  I  never  knew  an  early-rising,  hard-working, 
prudent  man,  careful  of  his  earnings  and  strictly  hon- 
est, who  complained  of  bad  luck.  A  good  character, 
good  habits,  and  iron  industry  are  impregnable  to  the 
assaults  of  all  the  ill  luck  that  fools  ever  dreamed  of 
But  wlien  I  see  a  tatterdemalion  creeping  out  of  a 
grocery  Jate  in  the  forenoon,  with  his  hands  stuck  into 


14  LECTURES  TO   YOUNG  MEN. 

his  pockets,  the  rim  of  his  hat  turned  up,  and  the 
crown  knocked  in,  I  know  he  has  had  bad  luck;  for 
the  worst  of  all  luck  is  to  be  a  sluggard,  a  knave,  or  a 
tippler. 

4.  Industry  is  a  substitute  for  genius.  Where  one 
or  more  faculties  exist  in  the  highest  state  of  devel- 
opment and  activity,  —  as  the  faculty  of  music  in 
Mozart,  invention  in  Fulton,  ideality  in  Milton,  —  we 
call  their  possessor  a  genius.  But  a  genius  is  iisnally 
understood  to  be  a  creature  of  such  rare  facility  of 
mind,  that  he  can  do  anything  without  labor.  Accord- 
ing to  the  popular  notion,  he  learns  without  study,  and 
knows  without  learning.  He  is  eloquent  without  prep- 
aration, exact  without  calculation,  and  profound  with- 
out reflection.  While  ordinary  men  toil  for  knowledge 
by  reading,  by  comparison,  and  by  minute  research,  a 
genius  is  supposed  to  receive  it  as  the  mind  receives 
dreams.  His  mind  is  like  a  vast  cathedral,  through 
whose  colored  windows  the  sunlight  streams,  painting 
the  aisles  with  the  varied  colors  of  brilliant  pictures. 
Such  minds  may  exist. 

So  far  as  my  observations  have  ascertained  the  spe- 
cies, they  abound  in  academies,  colleges,  and  Thespian 
societies,  in  village  debating-clubs,  in  coteries  of 
young  artists,  and  among  young  professional  aspirants. 
They  are  to  be  known  by  a  reserved  air,  excessive  sen- 
sitiveness, and  utter  indolence  ;  by  very  long  hair,  and 
very  open  shirt-collars ;  by  tlie  reading  of  much 
■wretched  poetry,  and  the  writing  of  much  yet  more 
wretched  ;  by  being  very  conceited,  very  affected,  very 
disagreeable,  and  very  useless  ;  —  beings  whom  no  man 
wants  for  friend,  pupil,  or  companion. 


INDUSTRY  AXD   IDLENESS.  15 

The  occupations  of  the  great  man  and  of  the  com- 
mon man  are  necessarily,  for  the  most  part,  the  same  ; 
for  the  business  of  life  is  made  up  of  minute  affairs,  re- 
quiring only  judgment  and  diligence.  A  high  order  of 
intellect  is  required  for  the  discovery  and  defence  of 
truth ;  but  this  is  an  unfrequent  task.  Where  the  ordi- 
nary wants  of  life  once  require  recondite  principles, 
they  will  need  the  application  of  familiar  truths  a 
thousand  times.  Those  who  enlarge  the  bounds  of 
knowledge,  must  push  out  with  bold  adventure  beyond 
the  common  walks  of  men.  But  only  a  few  pioneers 
are  needed  for  the  largest  armies,  and  a  few  profound 
men  in  each  occupation  may  herald  the  advance  of  all 
the  business  of  society.  The  vast  bulk  of  men  are  re- 
quired to  discharge  the  homely  duties  of  life ;  and  they 
have  less  need  of  genius  than  of  intellectual  industry 
and  patient  enterprise.  Young  men  should  observe  that 
those  who  take  the  honors  and  emoluments  of  mechani- 
cal crafts,  of  commerce,  and  of  professional  life  are 
rather  distinguished  for  a  sound  judgment  and  a  close 
application,  than  for  a  brilliant  genius.  In  the  ordinary 
business  of  life,  industry  can  do  anytliing  which  genius 
can  do,  and  very  many  things  which  it  cannot.  Genius 
is  usually  impatient  of  application,  irritable,  scornful  of 
men's  dulness,  squeamish  at  petty  disgusts:  it  loves 
a  conspicuous  place,  short  work,  and  a  large  reward ;  it 
loathes  the  sweat  of  toil,  the  vexations  of  life,  and  the 
dull  burden  of  care. 

Industry  has  a  firmer  muscle,  is  less  annoyed  by  de- 
lays and  repulses,  and,  like  water,  bends  itself  to  the 
shape  of  the  soil  over  which  it  flows  ;  and,  if  checked, 
will  not  rest,  but  accumulates,  and  mines  a  passage  be- 


jiUiriVB 


16  LECTURES  TO   Y(3UNG   MEX. 

neatli,  or  seeks  a  side-race,  or  rises  above  and  overflows 
the  obstruction.  AVliat  genius  performs  at  one  im- 
pulse, industry  gains  by  a  succession  of  blows.  In 
ordinary  matters  they  differ  only  in  rapidity  of  exe- 
cution, and  are  upon  one  level  before  men,  —  who  see 
the  result  but  not  the  2^'>^occss. 

It  is  admirable  to  know  that  those  things  which,  in 
skill,  in  art,  and  in  learning,  the  world  has  been  unwill- 
ing to  let  die,  have  not  only  been  the  conceptions  of 
genius,  but  the  products  of  toil.  The  masterpieces  of 
antiquity,  as  well  in  literature  as  in  art,  are  known  to 
have  received  their  extreme  finish  from  an  almost 
incredible  continuance  of  labor  upon  them.  I  do  not 
remember  a  book  in  all  the  departments  of  learning,  nor 
a  scrap  in  literature,  nor  a  work  in  all  the  schools  of 
art,  from  which  its  author  has  derived  a  permanent  re- 
nown, that  is  not  known  to  have  been  long  and  patient- 
ly elaborated.  Genius  needs  industry,  as  much  as 
industry  needs  genius.  If  only  Milton's  imagination 
could  have  conceived  his  visions,  his  consummate  in- 
dustry only  could  have  carved  the  immortal  lines  which 
enshrine  them.  If  only  E"ewton's  mind  could  reach 
out  to  the  secrets  of  nature,  even  his  could  only  do  it 
by  the  homeliest  toil  The  works  of  Bacon  are  not  mid- 
summer-night dreams,  but,  like  coral  islands,  they  have 
risen  from  the  depths  of  truth,  and  formed  their  broad 
surfaces  above  the  ocean  by  the  minutest  accretions  of 
persevering  lal3or.  The  conceptions  of  Michael  Angelo 
would  have  perished  like  a  night's  fantasy,  had  not 
his  industry  given  them  permanence. 

From  enjoying  the  pleasant  walks  of  industry  we 
turn  reluctantly  to  explore  the  patlis  of  indolence. 


INDUSTRY   AND   IDLENESS.  17 

All  degrees  of  indolence  incline  a  man  to  rely  upon 
others  and  not  upon  himself,  to  eat  their  bread  and 
not  his  own.  His  carelessness  is  somebody's  loss ;  his 
neglect  is  somebody's  downfall ;  his  j^romises  are  a  per- 
petual stumbling-block  to  all  who  trust  them.  If  he 
borrows,  the  article  remains  borrowed ;  if  he  begs  and 
gets,  it  is  as  the  letting  out  of  waters,  —  no  one  knows 
when  it  will  stop.  He  spoils  your  work,  disappoints 
your  expectations,  exhausts  your  patience,  eats  up 
your  substance,  abuses  your  confidence,  and  hangs  a 
dead  weight  upon  all  your  plans  ;  and  the  very  best 
thing  an  honest  man  can  do  with  a  lazy  man  is  to  get 
rid  of  him.  Solomon  says.  Bray  a  fool  in  a  mortar  amonrj 
wheat  luith  a  pestle,  yet  ivill  not  his  foolishness  depart 
from  him.  He  does  not  mention  what  kind  of  a  fool  he 
meant ;  but  as  he  speaks  of  a  fool  by  pre-eminence,  I 
take  it  for  granted  he  meant  a  lazy  man  ;  and  I  am  the 
more  inclined  to  the  opinion,  from  another  expression 
of  his  experience  :  As  mnerjar  to  the  teeth,  and  as  smoJce 
to  the  eyes,  so  is  the  sluggard  to  them  that  send  him. 

Indolence  is  a  great  spendthrift.  An  indolently  in- 
clined young  man  can  neither  make  nor  keej)  property. 
I  have  high  authority  for  this :  ITe  also  thcct  is  slothful 
in  his  work  is  brother  to  him  that  is  a  great  waster. 

When  Satan  would  put  ordinary  men  to  a  crop  of 
mischief,  like  a  wise  husbandman  he  clears  the  ground 
and  prepares  it  for  seed;  but  he  finds  the  idle  man 
already  prepared,  and  lie  has  scarcely  the  trouble  of 
sowing ;  for  vices,  like  weeds,  ask  little  strewing,  ex- 
cept what  the  wind  gives  their  ripe  and  winged  seeds, 
shaking  and  scattering  them  all  abroad.  Indeed,  lazy 
men  may  fitly  be  likened  to  a  tropical  prairie,  over 


18  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG   MEN. 

which  the  wind  of  temptation  perpetually  blows,  drift- 
ing every  vagrant  seed  from  hedge  and  hill,  and  which, 
without  a  moment's  rest  through  all  the  year,  waves 
its  rank  harvest  of  luxuriant  weeds. 

First,  the  imagination  will  be  haunted  with  unlawful 
visitants.  Upon  the  outskirts  of  towns  are  shattered 
houses  abandoned  by  reputable  persons.  They  are  not 
empty,  because  all  the  day  silent ;  thieves,  vagabonds, 
and  villains  haunt  them,  in  joint  possession  with  rats, 
bats,  and  vermin.  Such  are  idle  men's  imaginations,  — 
full  of  unlawful  company. 

The  imagination  is  closely  related  to  the  passions, 
and  fires  them  with  its  heat.  The  day-dreams  of  indo- 
lent youth  glow  each  hour  with  warmer  colors  and 
bolder  adventures.  The  imagination  fashions  scenes 
of  enchantment  in  which  the  passions  revel,  and  it 
leads  them  out,  in  shadow  at  first,  to  deeds  which  soon 
they  will  seek  in  earnest.  The  brilliant  colors  of  far- 
away clouds  are  but  the  colors  of  the  storm ;  the  sala- 
cious day-dreams  of  indolent  men,  rosy  at  first  and 
distant,  deepen  every  day  darker  and  darker  to  the 
color  of  actual  evil.  Then  follows  the  blight  of  every 
habit.  Indolence  promises  without  redeeming  the 
pledge ;  a  mist  of  forgetfulness  rises  up  and  obscures 
the  memory  of  vows  and  oaths.  The  negligence  of 
laziness  breeds  more  falsehoods  than  the  cunning  of 
the  sharper.  As  poverty  waits  upon  the  steps  of  in- 
dolence, so  upon  such  poverty  brood  equivocations,  sub- 
terfuges, lying  denials.  Falsehood  becomes  the  instru- 
ment of  every  plan.  Negligence  of  truth,  next  occa- 
sional falsehood,  then  wanton  mendacity,  —  tliese  three 
strides  traverse  the  whole  road  of  lies. 


INDUSTRY   AXD   IDLENESS.  19 

Indolence  as  surely  runs  to  dishonesty  as  to  lying. 
Indeed  they  are  but  different  parts  of  the  same  road, 
and  not  far  apart.  In  directing  the  conduct  of  the 
Ephesian  converts,  Paul  says,  Let  him  that  stole  steal 
no  more  ;  hut  rather  let  him  laJjor,  icorking  vnth  his  hands 
the  thing  ichich  is  good.  The  men  who  were  thieves 
were  those  who  had  ceased  to  work.  Industry  was  the 
road  back  to  honesty.  When  stores  are  broken  open, 
the  idle  are  first  suspected.  The  desperate  forgeries 
and  swindHngs  of  past  years  have  taught  men,  upon 
their  occurrence,  to  ferret  their  authors  among  the  un- 
employed, or  among  those  vainly  occupied  in  vicious 
pleasures. 

The  terrible  passion  for  stealing  rarely  grows  upon 
the  young,  except  through  the  necessities  of  their  idle 
pleasures.  Business  is  first  neglected  for  amusement, 
and  amusement  soon  becomes  the  only  business.  The 
appetite  for  vicious  pleasure  outruns  the  means  of  pro- 
curing it.  The  theatre,  the  circus,  the  card-table,  the 
midnight  carouse,  demand  money.  When  scanty  earn- 
ings are  gone,  the  young  man  pilfers  from  the  till.  First, 
because  he  hopes  to  repay,  and  next,  because  he  de- 
spairs of  paying ;  for  the  disgrace  of  stealing  ten  dol- 
lars or  a  thousand  will  be  the  same,  but  not  their  re- 
spective pleasures.  ^SText,  he  will  gamble,  since  it  is 
only  another  form  of  stealing.  Gradually  excluded 
from  reputable  society,  the  vagrant  takes  all  the  badges 
of  vice,  and  is  familiar  with  her  paths,  and  through 
them  enters  the  broad  road  of  crime.  Society  precipi- 
tates its  lazy  members,  as  water  does  its  filth,  and  they 
form  at  the  bottom  a  pestilent  sediment,  stirred  up  by 
every  breeze  of  evil  into  riots,  robberies,  and  murders. 


20  LECTURES  TO   YOUXG  MEN. 

Into  it  drains  all  the  filth,  and  out  of  it,  as  from  a 
morass,  flow  all  the  streams  of  pollution.  Brutal 
-wretches,  desperately  haunted  by  the  law,  crawling  in 
human  filth,  brood  here  their  villain  schemes,  and  plot 
mischief  to  man.  Hither  resorts  the  truculent  dema- 
gogue, to  stir  np  the  fetid  filth  against  his  adversaries, 
or  to  bring  up  mobs  out  of  this  sea  which  cannot  rest, 
but  casts  up  mire  and  dirt. 

The  results  of  indolence  upon  communities  are  as 
marked  as  upon  individuals.  In  a  town  of  industrious 
people  the  streets  would  be  clean,  houses  neat  and 
comfortable,  fences  in  repair,  school-houses  swarming 
wdth  rosy-faced  children,  decently  clad  and  well  be- 
haved. The  laws  would  be  respected,  because  justly 
administered.  The  church  would  be  thronged  with  de- 
vout worshippers.  The  tavern  would  be  silent,  and  for 
the  most  part  empty,  or  a  welcome  retreat  for  weary 
travellers.  Grog-sellers  would  fail,  and  mechanics  grow 
rich  ;  labor  would  be  honorable,  and  loafins^  a  discrrace. 
For  music,  the  people  would  have  the  blacksmith's 
anvil  and  the  carpenter's  hammer ;  and  at  home,  the 
spinning-whieel,  and  girls  cheerfully  singing  at  their 
work.  Debts  would  be  seldom  paid,  because  seldom 
made ;  but  if  contracted,  no  grim  officer  would  be  in- 
vited to  the  settlement.  Town  officers  would  be  re- 
spectable men,  taking  office  reluctantly,  and  only  for 
the  public  good.  Public  days  would  be  full  of  sports, 
without  fighting  ;  and  elections  would  be  as  orderly  as 
weddings  or  funerals. 

In  a  town  of  lazy  men  I  should  expect  to  find  crazy 
houses,  shingles  and  weather-boards  knocked  off;  doors 
hingeless,  and  all  a-creak ;  windows  stuffed  with  rags, 


INDUSTRY  AND   IDLENESS.  21 

hats,  or  pillows.  Instead  of  flo^yers  in  summer,  and 
"warmth  in  winter,  every  side  of  the  house  would  swarm 
wdth  vermin  in  hot  weather,  and  with  starveling  pigs 
in  cold ;  fences  would  be  curiosities  of  lazy  contrivance, 
and  gates  hung  wdth  ropes,  or  lying  flat  in  the  mud. 
Lank  cattle  w^ould  follow  every  loaded  w^agon,  suppli- 
cating a  morsel,  with  famine  in  their  looks.  Children 
would  be  ragged,  dirty,  saucy  ;  the  school-house  empty  ; 
the  jail  full ;  the  church  silent ;  the  grog-vshops  noisy ; 
and  the  carpenter,  the  saddler,  and  the  blacksmith 
would  do  their  principal  wqrk  at  taverns.  Lawyers 
would  reion  ;  constables  flourish,  and  hunt  sneakinof 
criminals ;  burly  justices  (as  their  interests  might  dic- 
tate) would  connive  a  compromise,  or  make  a  commit- 
ment. The  peace-officers  would  wdnk  at  tumults,  arrest 
rioters  in  fun,  and  drink  with  them  in  good  earnest. 
Good  men  would  be  obliged  to  keep  dark,  and  bad  men 
would  swear,  fight,  and  rule  the  town.  Public  days 
would  be  scenes  of  confusion,  and  end  in  rows ;  elec- 
tions would  be  drunken,  illegal,  boisterous,  and  brutal. 
The  young  abhor  the  last  results  of  idleness;  but 
they  do  not  perceive  that  the  first  steps  lead  to  the  last. 
They  are  in  the  opening  of  this  career  :  but  wdth  them 
it  is  genteel  leisure,  not  laziness ;  it  is  relaxation,  not 
sloth ;  amusement,  not  indolence.  But  leisure,  relaxa- 
tion, and  amusement,  when  men  ought  to  be  usefully 
engaged,  are  indolence.  A  specious  industry  is  the 
w^orst  idleness.  A  young  man  perceives  that  the  first 
steps  lead  to  the  last,  with  every l^ody  but  himself.  lie 
sees  others  become  drunkards  by  social  tippling ;  he 
sips  socially,  as  if  lie  could  not  be  a  drunkard.  He  sees 
others  become  dislioncst  by  petty  habits  of  fraud  ;  but 


22  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG   MEN. 

will  indulge  slight  aberrations,  as  if  he  could  not  be- 
come knavish.  Though  others,  by  lying,  lose  all  char- 
acter, he  does  not  imagine  that  his  little  dalliances  with 
falsehood  will  make  him  a  liar.  He  knows  that  sala- 
cious imaginations,  villanous  pictures,  harlot  snuff-boxes, 
and  illicit  familiarities  have  led  thousands  to  her  door, 
whose  house  is  the  way  to  hell ;  yet  he  never  sighs  or 
trembles  lest  these  things  should  take  him  to  this  in- 
evitable way  of  damnation ! 

In  reading  these  strictures  upon  indolence,  you  will 
abhor  it  in  others  without  suspecting  it  in  yourself. 
While  you  read,  I  fear  you  are  excusing  yourself;  you 
are  supposing  that  your  leisure  has  not  been  laziness, 
or  that,  with  your  disposition,  and  in  your  circumstan- 
ces, indolence  is  harmless.  Be  not  deceived:  if  you 
are  idle,  you  are  on  the  road  to  ruin ;  and  there  are  few 
stopping-places  upon  it.  It  is  rather  a  precipice  than 
a  road.  While  I  point  out  the  temptation  to  indolence, 
scrutinize  your  course,  and  pronounce  honestly  upon, 
your  risk. 

1.  Some  are  tempted  to  indolence  by  their  wretched 
training,  or,  rather,  wretched  want  of  it.  How  many 
families  are  the  most  remiss,  whose  low  condition  and 
sufferings  are  the  strongest  inducement  to  industry! 
The  children  have  no  inheritance,  yet  never  work ;  no 
education,  yet  are  never  sent  to  school.  It  is  hard  to 
keep  their  rags  around  them,  yet  none  of  them  will  earn 
better  raiment.  If  ever  there  was  a  case  when  a  gov- 
ernment should  interfere  between  parent  and  child,  that 
seems  to  be  the  one  where  children  are  started  in  life 
with  an  education  of  vice.  If,  in  every  community, 
three  things  should  be  put  together,  which  always  work 


IXDUSTEY   AND   IDLENESS.  23 

together,  the  front  would  be  a  grog-shop,  the  middle  a 
jail,  the  rear  a  gallows;  an  infernal  trinity,  and 
the  recruits  for  this  three-headed  monster  are  largely 
drafted  from  the  lazy  children  of  wortliless  parents. 

2.  The  children  of  rich  parents  are  apt  to  be  reared 
in  indolence.  The  ordinary  motives  to  industry  are 
wanting,  and  the  temptations  to  sloth  are  multiplied. 
Other  men  labor  to  provide  a  support,  to  amass  wealth, 
to  secure  homage,  to  obtain  power,  to  multiply  the 
elegant  products  of  art.  The  child  of  affluence  inherits 
these  things.  ^^Iiy  should  he  labor  who  may  com- 
mand universal  service,  whose  money  subsidizes  the  in- 
ventions of  art,  exhausts  the  luxuries  of  society,  and 
makes  rarities  common  by  their  abundance  ?  Only  the 
blind  would  not  see  that  riches  and  ruin  run  in  one 
channel  to  prodigal  children.  The  most  rigorous  regi- 
men, the  most  confirmed  industry  and  steadfast  moral- 
ity, can  alone  disarm  inherited  wealth,  and  reduce  it  to 
a  blessing.  The  profligate  wretch,  who  fondly  watches 
his  father's  advancing  decrepitude,  and  secretly  curses 
the  lingering  steps  of  death  (seldom  too  slow  except  to 
hungry  heirs),  at  last  is  overblessed  in  the  tidings  that 
the  loitering  work  is  done,  and  the  estate  his.  Wlien 
the  golden  shower  has  fallen,  he  rules  as  a  prince  in  a 
court  of  expectant  parasites.  All  tlie  sluices  by  which 
pleasurable  vice  drains  an  estate  are  opened  wide.  A 
few  years  complete  the  ruin.  The  hopeful  heir,  avoided 
by  all  whom  he  has  helped,  ignorant  of  useful  labor, 
and  scorning  a  knowledge  of  it,  fired  with  an  incurable 
appetite  for  vicious  excitement,  sinks  steadily  down,  — 
a  profligate,  a  wretch,  a  villain-scoundrel,  a  convicted 
felon.     Let  parents  who  hate  their  offspring  rear  them 


24  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG   MEN. 

to  hate  labor,  and  to  inlierit  riclies,  and  before  long  they 
will  be  stung  by  every  vice,  racked  by  its  poison,  and 
damned  by  its  penalty. 

3.  Another  cause  of  idleness  is  found  in  the  secret 
effects  of  youthful  indulgence.  The  purest  pleasures 
lie  within  the  circle  of  useful  occupation.  Mere  pleas- 
ure, sought  outside  of  usefulness,  existing  by  itself, 
is  fraught  with  poison.  When  its  exhilaration  has 
thoroughly  kindled  the  mind,  the  passions  thenceforth 
refuse  a  simple  food ;  they  crave  and  require  an  excite- 
ment higher  than  any  ordinary  occupation  can  give. 
After  revelling  all  night  in  wine-dreams,  or  amid  the 
fascinations  of  the  dance,  or  the  deceptions  of  the  drama, 
what  has  the  dull  store  or  the  dirty  shop  which  can 
continue  the  pulse  at  this  fever-heat  of  delight  ?  The 
face  of  Pleasure  to  the  youthful  imagination  is  the  face 
of  an  angel,  a  paradise  of  smiles,  a  home  of  love  ;  while 
the  rugged  face  of  Industry,  imbrowned  by  toil,  is  dull 
and  repulsive :  but  at  the  end  it  is  not  so.  These  are 
harlot  charms  wliich  Pleasure  wears.  At  last,  when 
Industry  shall  put  on  her  beautiful  garments,  and  rest 
in  the  palace  which  her  own  hands  have  built.  Pleas- 
ure, blotched  and  diseased  with  indulgence,  shall  lie 
down  and  die  upon  the  dung-hill. 

4.  Example  leads  to  idleness.  The  children  of  in- 
dustrious parents,  at  the  sight  of  vagrant  rovers  seeking 
their  sports  wherever  they  will,  disrelish  labor,  and 
envy  this  unrestrained  leisure.  At  the  first  relaxation 
of  parental  vigilance,  they  shrink  from  tlieir  odious 
tasks.  Idleness  is  begun  wlien  labor  is  a  burden,  and 
industry  a  bondage,  and  only  idle  relaxation  a  pleasure. 

The   example   of  political  men,   office-seekers,   and 


INDUSTRY  AND  IDLENESS.  25 

public  officers  is  not  usually  couducive  to  inclustiy. 
The  idea  insensibly  fastens  upon  tlie  mind  that  great- 
ness and  hard  labor  are  not  companions.  The  inexpe- 
rience of  youth  imagines  that  great  men  are  men  of 
great  leisure.  They  see  them  much  in  public,  often 
applauded  and  greatly  followed.  How  disgusting  in 
contrast  is  the  mechanic's  life  !  A  tinkering-shop,  dark 
and  smutty,  is  the  only  theatre  of  his  exploits ;  and 
labor,  which  covers  him  with  sweat  and  fills  him  with 
weariness,  brings  neither  notice  nor  praise.  The  am- 
bitious apprentice,  sighing  over  his  soiled  hands,  hates 
liis  ignoble  w^ork;  neglecting  it,  he  aspires  to  better 
things,  plots  in  a  caucus,  declaims  in  a  bar-room,  fights 
in  a  grog-shop,  and  dies  in  a  ditch. 

5.  But  the  indolence  begotten  by  venal  ambition 
must  not  be  so  easily  dropped.  At  those  periods  of 
occasional  disaster,  when  embarrassments  cloud  the 
face  of  commerce,  and  trade  drags  heavily,  sturdy  la- 
borers forsake  industrial  occupations  and  petition  for 
office.  Had  I  a  son  able  to  gain  a  livelihood  by  toil,  I 
had  rather  bury  him  than  witness  his  beggarly  suppli- 
cations for  office,  —  sneaking  along  the  path  of  men's 
passions  to  gain  his  advantage,  holding  in  the  breath  of 
his  honest  opinions,  and  breathing  feigned  words  of 
flattery  to  hungry  ears,  popular  or  official,  and  crawling, 
viler  than  a  snake,  through  all  the  unmanly  courses  by 
which  ignoble  wretches  purloin  the  votes  of  the  dis- 
honest, the  drunken,  and  the  vile. 

The  late  reverses  of  commerce  have  unsettled  the 
habits  of  thousands.  Manhood  seems  debilitated,  and 
many  sturdy  yeomen  are  ashamed  of  nothing  but  la- 
bor.    For  a  farthing-pittance  of  official  salary,  for  the 

2 


26  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG   MEN. 

miserable  fees  of  a  constable's  office,  for  the  parings  and 
perquisites  of  any  deputysliip,  a  hundred  men  in  every 
village  rush  forward,  scrambling,  jostling,  crowding, 
each  more  obsequious  than  the  other  to  lick  the  hand 
that  holds  the  omnipotent  vote  or  the  starveling  office. 
The  most  supple  cunning  gains  the  prize.  Of  the  dis- 
appointed crowd  a  few,  rebuked  by  their  sober  reflec- 
tions, go  back  to  their  honest  trade,  ashamed  and  cured 
of  office-seeking.  But  the  majority  grumble  for  a  day, 
then  prick  forth  their  ears,  arrange  their  feline  arts, 
and  mouse  again  for  another  office.  The  general  appe- 
tite for  office  and  disrelish  for  industrial  callings  is  a 
prolific  source  of  idleness ;  and  it  would  be  well  for  the 
honor  of  young  men  if  they  were  bred  to  regard  ofi&ce 
as  fit  only  for  those  who  have  clearly  shown  themselves 
able  and  willing  to  support  their  families  without  it. 
iN'o  office  can  make  a  worthless  man  respectable,  and  a 
man  of  integrity,  thrift,  and  religion  has  name  enough 
without  badge  or  office. 

6.  Men  become  indolent  through  the  reverses  of 
fortune.  Surely,  despondency  is  a  grievous  thing  and 
a  heavy  load  to  bear.  To  see  disaster  and  wreck  in  the 
present,  and  no  light  in  the  future,  but  only  storms, 
lurid  by  the  contrast  of  past  prosperity,  and  growing 
darker  as  they  advance  ;  to  wear  a  constant  expectation 
of  woe  like  a  girdle ;  to  see  w^ant  at  the  door,  imperi- 
ously knocking,  while  there  is  no  strength  to  repel,  or 
courage  to  bear  its  tyranny ;  —  indeed,  this  is  dreadful 
enough.  But  there  is  a  thing  more  dreadful.  It  is 
more  dreadful  if  the  man  is  wrecked  with  his  fortune. 
Can  anything  be  more  poignant  in  anticipation  than 
one's  own  self,  unnerved,  cowed  down  and  slackened  to 


Ustdustry  axd  idleness.  27 

ntter  pliancy,  and  helplessly  drifting  and  driven  down 
the  troubled  sea  of  life  ?  Of  all  things  on  earth,  next 
to  his  God,  a  broken  man  should  cling  to  a  courageous 
industry.  If  it  brings  nothing  back  and  saves  nothing, 
it  will  save  him.  To  be  pressed  down  by  adversity  has 
nothing  in  it  of  disgrace;  but  it  is  disgraceful  to  lie 
down  under  it  like  a  supple  dog.  Indeed,  to  stand 
coDiposedly  in  the  storm,  amidst  its  rage  and  wildest 
devastations,  to  let  it  beat  over  you  and  roar  around 
you,  and  pass  by  you,  and  leave  you  undismayed,  this 
is  to  be  a  max.  Adversity  is  the  mint  in  which  God 
stamps  upon  us  his  image  and  superscription.  In  this 
matter  men  may  learn  of  insects.  The  ant  will  repair 
his  dwelling  as  often  as  the  mischievous  foot  crushes 
it ;  the  spider  will  exhaust  life  itself,  before  he  will  live 
without  a  web ;  the  bee  can  be  decoyed  from  his  labor 
neither  by  plenty  nor  scarcity.  If  summer  be  abun- 
dant, it  toils  none  the  less;  if  it  be  parsimonious  of 
flowers,  the  tiny  laborer  sweeps  a  wider  circle,  and  by 
industry  repairs  the  frugality  of  the  season.  ^lan 
should  be  ashamed  to  be  rebuked  in  vain  by  the  spider, 
the  ant,  and  the  bee. 

Seest  thou  a  man  diligent  in  his  husiness?  he  shall 
stand  hefore  kings  ;  he  shall  not  stand  before  mean  men. 


^r-*^.  ^,''^.^--*V?,-S^  o    ,^^?^, 


^s^^  tl^^s^^-^?^;^  "^VU^ 


LECTUEE  11. 

TWELVE   CAUSES  OF   DISHONESTY. 

Providing  for  honest  things,  not  only  in  the  sight  of  the 
Lord,  but  also  in  the  sight  of  men."  —  2  Cor.  viii.  21. 

;XLY  extraordinary  circumstances  can  give 
the  appearance  of  dishonesty  to  an  honest 
man.  Usually,  not  to  seem  honest  is  not 
to  he  so.  The  quality  must  not  be  doubt- 
twilight,  lingering  between  night  and  day 
and  taking  hues  from  both ;  it  must  be  daylight,  clear 
and  effulgent.  This  is  the  doctrine  of  the  Bible : 
Providing  for  honest  things,  not  only  in  the  sight  of  the 
Lord,  BUT  ALSO  IX  THE  SIGHT  OF  MEN.  In  general  it 
may  be  said  that  no  one  has  honesty  without  dross 
until  he  has  honesty  without  suspicion. 

We  are  passing  through  times  upon  which  the  seeds 
of  dishonesty  have  been  sown  broadcast,  and  they  have 
brought  forth  a  hundreds-fold.  These  times  will  pass 
away,  but  like  ones  will  come  again.  As  physicians 
study  the  causes  and  record  the  phenomena  of  plagues 
and  pestilences,  to  draw  from  them  an  antidote  against 
their  recurrence,  so  should  we'  leave  to  another  genera- 
tion a  history  of  moral  plagues,  as  the  best  antidote  to 
their  recurring  malignity. 

Upon  a  land  —  capacious  beyond  measure,  wdiose 
prodigal  soil  rewards  labor  with  an  unharvestable  abun- 


TWELVE   CAUSES   OF   DISHONESTY.  29 

dance  of  exuberant  fruits,  occupied  by  a  people  signal- 
ized by  enterprise  and  industry  —  there  came  a  sum- 
mer of  prosperity  Avliicli  lingered  so  long  and  shone  so 
brightly,  that  men  forgot  that  winter  could  ever  come. 
Each  day  grew  brighter.  No  reins  were  put  upon  the 
imagination.  Its  dreams  passed  for  realities.  Even 
sober  men,  touched  with  wildness,  seemed  to  expect  a 
realization  of  Oriental  tales.  Upon  this  bright  day 
came  sudden  frosts,  storms,  and  blight.  Men  awoke 
from  gorgeous  dreams  in  the  midst  of  desolation.  The 
harvests  of  years  were  swept  away  in  a  day.  The 
strongest  firms  were  rent  as  easily  as  the  oak  by  light- 
ning. Speculating  companies  were  dispersed  as  seared 
leaves  from  a  tree  in  autumn.  Merchants  were  ruined 
by  thousands,  clerks  turned  adrift  by  ten  thousands. 
Mechanics  were  left  in  idleness.  Farmers  sighed  over 
flocks  and  wheat  as  useless  as  the  stones  and  dirt.  The 
wide  sea  of  commerce  was  stagnant ;  upon  the  realm  of 
industry  settled  down  a  sullen  lethargy. 

Out  of  this  reverse  swarmed  an  unnumbered  host  of 
dishonest  men,  like  vermin  from  a  carcass.  Banks  were 
exploded,  or  robbed,  or  fleeced  by  astounding  for- 
geries. Mighty  companies,  witliout  cohesion,  went  to 
pieces,  and  hordes  of  wretches  snatched  up  every  bale 
that  came  ashore.  Cities  were  ransacked  by  troops  of 
\nllains.  The  unparalleled  frauds,  which  sprung  like 
mines  on  every  hand,  set  every  man  to  trembling  lest 
the  next  explosion  should  be  under  his  own  feet.  Fi- 
delity seemed  to  have  forsaken  men.  ]\Iany  that  had 
earned  a  reputation  for  sterling  honesty  were  cast  so 
suddenly  headlong  into  wickedness,  that  man  shrank 
from   man.     Suspicion   overgrew   confidence,  and   the 


30  LECTURES  TO   YOUNG  MEN. 

heart  bristled  with  the  nettles  and  thorns  of  fear  and 
jealousy.  Then  had  almost  come  to  pass  the  divine  de- 
lineation of  ancient  wickedness  :  The  good  man  is  per- 
ished  02ct  of  the  earth  ;  and  there  is  none  itpright  among 
men  :  they  all  lie  in  ivait  for  hlood  ;  they  hunt  every  man 
his  hrother  with  a  net.  That  they  may  do  evil  ivith  loth 
hands  earnestly,  the  prince  asheth,  and  the  judge  asltethfor 
a  reward  ;  arid  the  great  man,  he  utter eth  his  misehievous 
desire  ;  so  they  lurap  it  up.  The  lest  of  them  is  as  a  brier  ; 
the  most  upright  is  sharper  than  a  thorn  hedge.  The 
world  looked  upon  a  continent  of  inexhanstible  fertility 
(whose  harvest  had  glutted  the  markets,  and  rotted  in 
disuse)  filled  with  lamentation,  and  its  inhabitants 
wandering  like  bereaved  citizens  among  the  ruins  of  an 
earthquake,  mourning  for  children,  for  houses  crushed, 
and  property  buried  forever. 

That  no  measure  might  be  put  to  the  calamity,  the 
Church  of  God,  which  rises  a  stately  tower  of  refuge  to 
desponding  men,  seemed  now  to  have  lost  its  power  of 
protection.  When  the  solemn  voice  of  Eeligion  should 
have  gone  over  the  land,  as  the  call  of  God  to  guilty 
man  to  seek  in  him  their  strength,  in  this  time  when 
Eeligion  should  have  restored  sight  to  the  blind,  made 
the  lame  to  walk,  and  bound  up  the  broken-hearted, 
she  was  herself  mourning  in  sackcloth.  Out  of  her 
courts  came  the  noise  of  warring  sects  ;  some  contending 
against  others  with  bitter  w^arfare,  and  some,  possessed 
of  a  demon,  wallowed  upon  the  ground,  foaming,  and 
rending  themselves.  In  a  time  of  panic  and  disaster 
and  distress  and  crime,  the  fountain  which  should  have 
been  for  the  healing  of  men  cast  up  its  sediments,  and 
gave  out  a  bitter  stream  of  pollution. 


TWELVE   CAUSES   OF   DISHONESTY.  31 

In  every  age  a  universal  pestilence  lias  hushed  the 
Earner  of  contention,  and  cooled  the  heats  of  parties ; 
but  the  greatness  of  our  national  calamity  seemed  only 
to  enkindle  the  fury  of  political  parties.  Contentions 
never  ran  with  such  deep  streams  and  impetuous  cur- 
rents, as  amidst  the  ruin  of  our  industry  and  prosperity. 
States  were  greater  debtors  to  foreign  nations  than 
their  citizens  were  to  each  other.  Both  States  and  citi- 
zens shrunk  back  from  their  debts,  and  yet  more  dis- 
honestly from  the  taxes  necessary  to  discharge  them. 
The  general  government  did  not  escape,  but  lay  be- 
calmed, or  pursued  its  course,  like  a  ship,  at  every  fur- 
lorn?  toucliinof  the  rocks  or  beatino^  against  the  sands. 
The  Capitol  trembled  with  the  first  waves  of  a  question 
which  is  yet  to  shake  the  whole  land.  New  questions 
of  exciting  qualities  perplexed  the  realm  of  legislation 
and  of  morals.  To  all  this  must  be  added  a  manifest 
decline  of  family  government ;  an  increase  of  the  ratio 
of  popular  ignorance ;  a  decrease  of  reverence  for  law, 
and  an  effeminate  administration  of  it.  Popular  tu- 
mults have  been  as  frequent  as  freshets  in  our  rivers, 
and,  like  them,  have  swept  over  the  land  with  desola- 
tion, and  left  their  filthy  slime  in  the  highest  places, 
—  upon  the  press,  upon  the  legislature,  in  the  halls  of 
our  courts,  and  even  upon  the  sacred  bench  of  jus- 
tice. If  unsettled  times  foster  dishonesty,  it  should 
have  flourished  amoncj  us.     And  it  has. 

Our  nation  must  expect  a  periodical  return  of  such 
convulsions ;  but  experience  should  steadily  curtail 
their  ravages,  and  remedy  their  immoral  tendencies. 
Young  men  have  before  them  lessons  of  manifold  wis- 
dom tauglit  by  the   severest  of  masters,  —  experience. 


32  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG  MEN. 

They  should  be  studied,  and,  that  they  may  be,  I  shall, 
from  tliis  general  survey,  turn  to  a  specific  enumersF 
tion  of  the  causes  of  dishonesty. 

1.  Some  men  find  in  their  bosom,  from  tlie  first,  a 
vehement  inclination  to  dislionest  ways.  Knavish  pro- 
pensities are  inherent,  born  with  the  child,  and  trans- 
missible from  parent  to  son.  The  children  of  a  sturdy 
thief,  if  taken  from  him  at  birth  and  reared  by  hon- 
est men,  would,  doubtless,  have  to  contend  against  a 
strongly  dishonest  inclination.  Foundlings  and  orphans 
under  public  charitable  charge  are  more  apt  to  become 
vicious  than  other  children.  They  are  usually  born  of 
low  and  vicious  parents,  and  inherit  their  parents'  pro- 
pensities. Only  the  most  thorough  moral  training  can 
overrule  this  innate  dej^ravity. 

2.  A  child  naturally  fair-minded  may  become  dis- 
honest by  parental  example.  He  is  early  taught  to  be 
sharp  in  bargains,  and  vigilant  for  every  advantage. 
Little  is  said  about  honesty,  and  much  upon  shrewd 
traffic.  A  dexterous  trick  becomes  a  family  anecdote  ; 
visitors  are  regaled  with  the  boy's  precocious  keenness. 
Hearing  the  praise  of  his  exploits,  he  studies  craft,  and 
seeks  parental  admiration  by  adroit  knaveries.  He  is 
taught,  for  his  safety,  that  he  must  not  range  beyond 
the  law ;  that  would  be  unprofitable.  He  calculates 
his  morality  thus:  Legal  honesty  is  the  lest  jpolicy ; 
dislionesty,  then,  is  a  bad  bargain,  and  therefore  wrong ; 
everything  is  wrong  which  is  unthrifty.  Whatever 
profit  breaks  no  legal  statute  —  though  it  is  gained  by 
falsehood,  by  unfairness,  by  gloss,  tlirough  dishonor, 
unkindness,  and  an  unscrupulous  conscience — he  con- 
siders fair,  and  says,  The  law  allows  it.    Men  may  spend 


TWELVE   CAUSES    OF   DISHONESTY.  33 

a  long  life  without  an  indictable  action  and  without 
an  honest  one.  No  law  can  reach  the  insidious  ways 
of  subtle  craft.  The  law  allows  and  religion  forbids 
men  to  profit  by  others'  misfortunes,  to  prowl  for  prey 
among  the  ignorant,  to  overreach  the  simple,  to  suck 
the  last  life-drops  from  the  bleeding,  to  hover  over  men 
as  a  vulture  over  herds,  swoojoing  down  upon  the  weak, 
the  straggling,  and  the  weary.  The  infernal  craft  of 
cunning  men  turns  the  law  itself  to  piracy,  and  works 
outrageous  fraud  in  the  hall  of  courts,  by  the  decision 
of  judges,  and  under  the  seal  of  justice. 

3.  Dishonesty  is  learned  from  one's  employers.  The 
boy  of  honest  parents  and  honestly  bred  goes  to  a 
trade  or  a  store  where  the  employer  practises  legal 
frauds.  The  plain  honesty  of  the  boy  excites  roars  of 
laughter  among  the  better  taught  clerks.  The  master 
tells  them  that  such  blundering  truthfulness  must  be 
pitied;  the  boy  evidently  has  been  neglected,  and  is 
not  to  be  ridiculed  for  what  he  could  not  help.  At 
first,  it  verily  pains  the  youth's  scruples  and  tinges  his 
face  to  frame  a  deliberate  dishonesty,  to  finish  and  to 
polish  it.  His  tongue  stammers  at  a  lie ;  but  the 
example  of  a  rich  master,  the  jeers  and  gibes  of  shop- 
mates,  with  gradual  practice,  cure  all  this.  He  be- 
comes adroit  in  fleecing  customers  for  his  master's  sake, 
and  equally  dexterous  in  fleecing  his  master  for  his 
own  sake. 

4.  Extravagance  is  a  prolific  source  of  dishonesty. 
Extravagance  —  which  is  foolish  expense,  or  expense 
disproportionate  to  one's  means  —  may  be  found  in  all 
gTades  of  society ;  but  it  is  chiefly  apparenj;-'aiicK>tig  the 
rich,  those  aspiring  to  wealth,  and  those'  wishing  to  be 

2*  C 


34  LECTUKES   TO   YOUNG  MEN. 

thought  affluent.  Many  a  young  man  cheats  liis  busi- 
ness by  transferring  his  means  to  theatres,  race-courses, 
expensive  parties,  and  to  the  nameless  and  numberless 
projects  of  pleasure.  The  enterprise  of  others  is  baf- 
fled by  the  extravagance  of  their  family ;  for  few  men 
can  make  as  much  in  a  year  as  an  extravagant  woman 
can  carry  on  her  back  in  one  winter.  Some  are  am- 
bitious of  fashionable  society,  and  will  gratify  their 
vanity  at  any  expense.  This  disproportion  between 
means  and  expense  soon  brings  on  a  crisis.  The  victim 
is  straitened  for  money ;  without  it  he  must  abandon 
his  rank ;  for  fashionable  society  remorselessly  rejects- 
all  butterflies  which  have  lost  their  brilliant  colors. 
Which  shall  he  choose,  honesty  and  mortifying  exclu- 
sion or  gayety  purchased  by  dishonesty  ?  The  severity 
of  this  choice  sometimes  sobers  the  intoxicated  brain, 
and  a  young  man  shrinks  from  the  gulf,  appalled  at  the 
darkness  of  dishonesty.  But  to  excessive  vanity  high- 
life,  with  or  without  fraud,  is  paradise,  and  any  other 
life  purgatory.  Here  many  resort  to  dishonesty  with- 
out a  scruple.  It  is  at  this  point  that  public  senti- 
ment half  sustains  dishonesty.  It  scourges  the  thief 
of  necessity,  and  pities  the  thief  of  fashion. 

The  struggle  with  others  is  on  the  very  ground  of 
honor.  A  wife  led  from  affluence  to  frigid  penury  and 
neglect,  from  leisure  and  luxury  to  toil  and  want; 
daughters,  once  courted  as  rich,  to  be  disesteemed  when 
poor;  —  this  is  the  gloomy  prospect,  seen  througli  a 
magic  haze  of  despondency.  Honor,  love,  and  generos- 
ity, strangely  bewitclied,  ])lead  for  dishonesty  as  the 
only  alternative  to  such  suffering.  But  go,  young  man, 
to  your  wife  ;  tell  her  the  alternative ;  if  she  is  worthy 


TWELVE   CAUSES   OF   DISHONESTY.  35 

of  you,  she  will  face  your  poverty  with  a  courage  which 
shall  shame  your  fears,  and  lead  you  into  its  wilderness 
and  through  it,  all  unshrinking.  Many  there  be  who 
went  weeping  into  this  desert,  and  erelong,  having 
found  in  it  the  fountains  of  the  purest  peace,  have 
thanked  God  for  the  pleasures  of  poverty.  But  if  your 
wife  unmans  your  resolution,  imploring  dishonor  rather 
than  penury,  may  God  pity  and  help  you  !  You  dwell 
with  a  sorceress,  and  few  can  resist  her  wiles. 

5.  Debt  is  an  inexhaustible  fountain  of  dishonesty. 
The  Eoyal  Preacher  tells  us :  Tlie  horroicer  is  ser- 
vant to  the  lender.  Debt  is  a  rigorous  servitude.  The 
debtor  learns  the  cunning  tricks,  delays,  concealments, 
and  frauds  by  which  slaves  evade  or  cheat  their  mas- 
ter. He  is  tempted  to  make  ambiguous  statements ; 
pledges,  with  secret  passages  of  escape ;  contracts,  with 
fraudulent  constructions  ;  lying  excuses  and  more  men- 
dacious promises.  He  is  tempted  to  elude  responsibil- 
ity, to  delay  settlements,  to  prevaricate  upon  the 
terms,  to  resist  equity,  and  devise  specious  fraud. 
Wlien  the  eager  creditor  would  restrain  such  vagrancy 
by  law,  the  debtor  then  thinks  himself  released  from 
moral  ol)ligation,  and  brought  to  a  legal  game,  in  which 
it  is  lawful  for  the  best  player  to  win.  He  disputes 
true  accounts,  he  studies  subterfuges,  extorts  provo- 
cations delays,  and  harbors  in  every  nook  and  corner 
and  passage  of  the  law's  labyrinth.  At  length  the 
measure  is  filled  up,  and  the  malignant  power  of  debt 
is  known.  It  has  opened  in  the  heart  every  fountain 
of  iniquity ;  it  has  besoiled  the  conscience,  it  has  tar- 
nished the  honor,  it  has  made  the  man  a  deliberate 
student  of  knavery,  a  systematic  practitioner  of  fraud ; 


36  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG   MEN. 

it  has  dragged  him  through  all  the  sewers  of  petty  pas- 
sions, —  anger,  hate,  revenge,  malicious  folly,  or  malig- 
nant shame.  "V\^ien  a  debtor  is  beaten  at  every  point, 
and  the  law  will  put  her  screws  upon  him,  there  is  no 
depth  in  the  gulf  of  dishonesty  into  which  he  will  not 
boldly  plunge.  Some  men  put  their  property  to  the 
flames,  assassinate  the  detested  creditor,  and  end  the 
frantic  tragedy  by  suicide  or  the  gallows.  Others,  in 
view  of  the  catastrophe,  have  converted  all  property  to 
cash,  and  concealed  it.  The  law's  utmost  skill  and  the 
creditor's  fury  are  alike  powerless  now;  the  tree  is 
green  and  thrifty,  its  roots  drawing  a  copious  supply 
from  some  hidden  fountain. 

Craft  has  another  harbor  of  resort  for  the  piratical 
crew  of  dishonesty,  viz.,  putting  the  property  out  of  the 
lauh  reach  hy  a  fraudulent  conveyance.  Whoever  runs 
in  debt,  and  consumes  the  equivalent  of  his  indebted- 
ness ;  whoever  is  fairly  liable  to  damage  for  broken 
contracts ;  whoever  by  folly,  has  incurred  debts  and 
lost  the  benefit  of  his  outlay  ;  whoever  is  legally  obliged 
to  pay  for  his  malice  or  carelessness ;  whoever  by  infi- 
delity to  public  trusts  has  made  his  property  a  just 
remuneration  for  his  defaults ;  —  whoever  of  all  these, 
or  whoever,  under  any  circumstances,  puts  out  of  his 
hands  property,  morally  or  legally  due  to  creditors,  is 
A  DISHONEST  MAN.  The  crazy  excuses  which  men  ren- 
der to  their  consciences  are  only  such  as  every  villain 
makes  wdio  is  unwilling  to  look  upon  the  black  face 
of  his  crimes. 

He  who  will  receive  a  conveyance  of  property,  know- 
ing it  to  be  illusive  and  fraudulent,  is  as  wicked  as  the 
principal ;  and  as  much  meaner,  as  the  tool  and  subordi- 


TWELA'E    CAUSES    OF   DISHONESTY.  37 

nate  of  villany  is  meaner  than  the  master  who  uses 
him. 

If  a  church,  knowing  all  these  facts,  or  wilfully  igno- 
rant of  them,  allows  a  member  to  nestle  in  the  security 
of  tlie  sanctuary,  then  the  act  of  this  robber  and  the 
connivance  of  the  church  are  but  the  two  parts  of  one 
crime. 

6.  Baxkruptcy,  although  a  brancli  of  debt,  deserves 
a  separate  mention.  It  sometimes  crushes  a  man's 
spirit,  and  sometimes  exasperates  it.  The  poignancy  of 
the  evil  depends  much  upon  the  disposition  of  the 
creditors,  and  as  much  upon  the  disposition  of  the  vic- 
tim. Should  theij  act  with  the  lenity  of  Christian  men, 
and  lie  with  manly  honesty,  promptly  rendering  up 
whatever  satisfaction  of  debt  he  has,  he  may  visit 
the  lowest  places  of  human  adversity,  and  find  tliere 
the  light  of  good  men's  esteem,  the  support  of  con- 
science, and  the  sustenance  of  religion. 

A  bankrupt  may  fall  into  the  Jiands  of  men  whose 
tender  mercies  are  cruel ;  or  his  dishonest  equivocations 
may  exasperate  their  temper  and  provoke  every  thorn 
and  brier  of  the  law.  "When  men's  passions  are  let 
loose,  especially  their  avarice,  whetted  by  real  or  imagi- 
nary wrong ;  when  there  is  a  rivalry  among  creditors 
lest  any  one  should  feast  upon  the  victim  more  than 
his  share,  and  they  all  rush  upon  him  like  wolves  upon 
a  wounded  deer,  dragging  him  down,  ripping  him  open, 
breast  and  flank,  plunging  deep  their  bloody  muzzles  to 
reach  the  heart,  and  taste  blood  at  the  very  fountain,  — 
is  it  strange  that  resistance  is  desperate  and  unscrupu- 
lous ?  At  length  the  sufferer  drags  liis  mutilated  car- 
cass aside,  every  nerve  and  muscle  wrung  with  pain, 


38  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG  MEN. 

and  liis  whole  body  an  instrument  of  agony.  He 
curses  the  whole  inhuman  crew  with  envenomed  im- 
precations, and  thenceforth,  a  brooding  misanthrope,  he 
pays  back  to  society  by  studied  villanies  the  legal 
wrongs  which  the  relentless  justice  of  a  few,  or  his 
own  knavery,  has  brought  upon  him. 

7.  There  is  a  circle  of  moral  dishonesties  practised 
because  the  law  allows  them.  The  very  anxiety  of 
law  to  reach  the  devices  of  cunning  so  perplexes  its 
statutes  with  exceptions,  limitations,  and  supplements, 
that,  hke  a  castle  gradually  enlarged  for  centuries,  it 
has  its  crevices,  dark  corners,  secret  holes,  and  winding 
passages,  —  an  endless  harbor  for  rats  and  vermin, 
where  no  trap  can  catch  them.  We  are  villanously 
infested  with  legal  rats  and  rascals  who  are  able  to  com- 
mit the  most  flagrant  dishonesties  with  impunity.  They 
can  do  all  of  wrong  which  is  profitable,  without  that 
part  which  is  actionable.  The  very  ingenuity  of  these 
miscreants  excites  such  admiration  of  their  skill  that 
their  life  is  gilded  with  a  specious  respectability.  Men 
profess  little  esteem  for  blunt,  necessitous  thieves  who 
rob  and  run  away ;  but  for  a  gentleman  wdio  can  break 
the  whole  of  God's  law  so  adroitly  as  to  leave  man's  law 
unbroken,  who  can  indulge  in  such  conservative  steal- 
ing that  his  fellow-men  award  him  a  rank  among  honest 
men  for  the  excessive  skill  of  his  dishonesty, — for  such 
an  one,  I  fear,  there  is  almost  universal  sympathy. 

8.  Political  dishonesty  breeds  dishonesty  of  every 
kind.  It  is  possible  for  good  men  to  permit  single  sins 
to  coexist  with  general  integrity,  where  the  evil  is  in- 
dulged through  ignorance.  Once,  undoubted  Cln^istians 
were  slave-traders.     They   miglit  be  while  unenlight- 


TWELVE   CAUSES   OF   DISHONESTY.  39 

ened,  but  not  in  our  times.  A  state  of  niind  wliicli 
will  mtcncl  one  fraud  will,  upon  occasions,  intend  a 
thousand.  He  that  upon  one  emergency  will  lie  will 
be  supplied  with  emergencies.  He  that  will  perjure 
himself  to  save  a  friend  will  do  it,  in  a  desperate  junct- 
ure, to  save  himself.  The  highest  AYisdom  has  in- 
formed us  tliat  He  that  is  unjust  in  the  least  is  imjust 
also  in  much.  Circumstances  may  withdraw  a  poli- 
tician from  temptation  to  any  but  political  dishonesty ; 
but  under  temptation  a  dishonest  politician  would  be  a 
dishonest  cashier,  —  would  be  dishonest  anywhere,  in 
anything.  The  fury  which  destroys  an  opponent's 
character  would  stop  at  nothing  if  barriers  were  thrown 
down.  That  which  is  true  of  the  leaders  in  poHtics  is 
true  of  subordinates.  Political  dishonesty  in  voters 
runs  into  general  dishonesty,  as  the  rotten  speck  taints 
the  whole  apj)le.  A  community  whose  politics  are 
conducted  by  a  perpetual  breach  of  honesty  on  both 
sides  will  be  tainted  by  immorality  throughout.  Men 
will  play  the  same  game  in  their  pri^'ate  affairs  which 
they  have  learned  to  play  in  public  matters.  The  guile, 
the  crafty  vigilance,  the  dishonest  ad\'antage,  the  cun- 
ning sharpness,  the  tricks  and  traps  and  sly  evasions, 
the  equivocal  promises  and  unequivocal  neglect  of 
them,  which  characterize  political  action,  will  equally 
characterize  private  action.  The  mind  has  no  kitchen 
to  do  its  dirty  work  in  while  the  parlor  remains  clean. 
Dishonesty  is  an  atmosphere ;  if  it  comes  into  one 
apartment  it  penetrates  every  one.  Whoever  will  lie 
in  politics  will  lie  in  traffic.  Whoever  will  slander  in 
politics  will  slander  in  personal  squabbles.  A  pro- 
fessor of  religion  who  is  a  dishonest  politician   is  a 


40  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG   MEX. 

dishonest  Cliristiaii.     His  creed  is  a  perpetual  index  of 
liis  liypocrisy. 

The  genius  of  our  government  directs  the  attention 
of  every  citizen  to  politics.  Its  spirit  reaches  the  ut- 
termost bound  of  society  and  pervades  the  whole  mass. 
If  its  channels  are  slimy  with  corruption,  what  limit 
can  be  set  to  its  malign  influence  ?  The  turbulence  of 
elections,  the  virulence  of  the  press,  the  desperation  of 
bad  men,  the  hopelessness  of  efforts  which  are  not  cun- 
ning but  only  honest,  have  driven  many  conscientious 
men  from  any  concern  with  politics.  This  is  suicidal. 
Thus  the  tempest  will  grow  blacker  and  fiercer.  -  Our 
youth  will  be  caught  up  in  its  whirling  bosom  and 
dashed  to  pieces,  and  its  hail  will  break  down  every 
green  thing.  At  God's  house  the  cure  should  begin. 
Let  the  hand  of  discipline  smite  the  leprous  lips  which 
shall  utter  the  profane  lieresy,  All  is  fair  in  2^olitics. 
If  any  hoary  professor,  drunk  with  the  mingled  wine 
of  excitement,  shall  tell  our  youth  that  a  Christian 
man  may  act  in  politics  by  any  other  rule  of  morality 
than  that  of  the  Bible,  and  that  wickedness  performed 
for  a  party  is  not  as  abominable  as  if  done  for  a  man, 
or  that  any  necessity  justifies  or  palliates  dishonesty 
in  word  or  deed,  let  such  an  one  go  out  of  the  camp, 
and  his  pestilent  breath  no  longer  spread  contagion 
among  our  youth.  No  man  who  loves  his  country 
should  shrink  from  her  side  when  she  groans  with 
raging  distempers.  Let  every  Christian  man  stand  in 
his  place,  rebuke  every  dishonest  practice,  scorn  a 
political  as  well  as  a  personal  lie,  and  refuse  with  in- 
dignation to  be  insulted  by  tlie  solicitation  of  an  im- 
moral man.     Let  good  men  of  all  parties  require  hon- 


TWELVE  CAUSES  OF  DISHONESTY.         41 

esty,  integrity,  veracity,  and  morality  in  politics,  and 
there,  as  powerfully  as  anywliere  else,  the  requisitions 
of  public  sentiment  will  ultimately  be  felt. 

9.  A  corrupt  public  sentiment  produces  dishonesty. 
A  public  sentiment  in  which  dishonesty  is  not  disgrace- 
ful, in  which  bad  men  are  respectable,  are  trusted,  are 
honored,  are  exalted,  is  a  curse  to  the  young.  The 
fever  of  speculation,  the  universal  derangement  of  busi- 
ness, the  growing  laxness  of  morals,  is,  to  an  alarming 
extent,  introducing  such  a  state  of  things.  Men  of  no- 
torious immorality,  whose  dishonesty  is  flagrant,  whose 
private  habits  would  disgrace  the  ditch,  are  powerful 
and  popular.  I  have  seen  a  man  stained  with  every 
sin  except  those  which  required  courage;  into  whose 
head  I  do  not  think  a  pure  thought  has  entered  for 
forty  years,  in  whose  heart  an  honorable  feeling  would 
droop  for  very  loneliness ;  —  in  evil  he  was  ripe  and 
rotten;  hoary  and  depraved  in  deed,  in  word,  in  his 
present  life  and  in  all  his  past ;  evil  when  by  himself, 
and  viler  among  men  ;  corrupting  to  the  young  ;  to 
domestic  fidelity  a  recreant,  to  common  honor  a  traitor, 
to  honesty  an  outlaw,  to  religion  a  hypocrite;  base 
in  all  that  is  worthy  of  man,  and  accomplished  in  what- 
ever is  disgraceful ;  and  yet  this  wretch  could  go  where 
he  would,  enter  good  men's  dwellings  and  purloin 
their  votes.  Men  would  curse  him,  yet  obey  him ;  hate 
him,  and  assist  him ;  warn  their  sons  against  him,  and 
lead  them  to  the  polls  for  him.  A  public  sentiment 
which  produces  ignominious  knaves  cannot  breed  hon- 
est men. 

Any  calamity,  civil  or  commercial,  which  checks  the 
administration  of  justice  between  man  and  man,  is  ruin- 


42  LECTUKES   TO   YOUNG   MEN. 

ous  to  honesty.  The  violent  fluctuations  of  business 
cover  tlie  ground  with  rubbish  over  whicli  men  stumble, 
and  fill  the  air  with  dust  in  which  all  the  shapes  of 
honesty  appear  distorted.  Men  are  thrown  upon  un- 
usual expedients,  dishonesties  are  unobserved ;  those 
who  have  been  reckless  and  profuse  stave  off  the  legiti- 
mate fruits  of  their  folly  by  desperate  shifts.  We  have 
not  yet  emerged  from  a  period  in  which  debts  were  in- 
secure, the  debtor  legally  protected  against  the  rights 
of  the  creditor ;  taxes  laid,  not  by  the  requirements  of 
justice,  but  for  political  effect,  and  lowered  to  a  dishon- 
est insufficiency,  and  when  thus  diminished,  not  col- 
lected ;  the  citizens  resisting  their  own  officers,  officers 
resigning  at  the  bidding  of  the  electors,  the  laws  of 
property  paralyzed,  bankrupt  laws  built  up,  and  stay- 
laws  unconstitutionally  enacted,  upon  which  the  courts 
look  with  aversion,  yet  fear  to  deny  them,  lest  the  wild- 
ness  of  popular  opinion  should  roll  back  disdainfully 
upon  the  bench,  to  despoil  its  dignity  and  prostrate  its 
power.  General  suffering  has  made  us  tolerant  of  gen- 
eral dishonesty ;  and  the  gloom  of  our  commercial  dis- 
aster threatens  to  become  the  pall  of  our  morals. 

If  the  shocking  stupidity  of  the  public  mind  to  atro- 
cious dishonesties  is  not  aroused,  if  good  men  do  not 
bestir  themselves  to  drag  the  young  from  this  foul  sor- 
cery, if  the  relaxed  bands  of  honesty  are  not  tightened 
and  conscience  intoned  to  a  severer  morality,  our  night 
is  at  hand,  our  midnight  not  far  off.  Woe  to  that 
guilty  people  who  sit  down  upon  broken  laws,  and 
wealth  saved  by  injustice  !  Woe  to  a  generation  fed 
upon  the  bread  of  fraud,  whose  children's  inheritance 
shall  be  a  perpetual  memento  of  tlieir  fathers'  unright- 


TWELVE   CAUSES   OF   DISHONESTY.  43 

eousness ;  to  whom  dishonesty  shall  be  made  pleasant 
by  association  with  the  revered  memories  of  father, 
brother,  and  friend ! 

But  when  a  whole  people,  united  by  a  common  disre- 
gard of  justice,  conspire  to  defraud  public  creditors;  and 
States  vie  with  States  in  an  infamous  repudiation  of 
just  debts,  by  open  or  sinister  methods  ;  and  nations  ex- 
ert their  sovereignty  to  protect  and  dignify  the  knavery 
of  a  Commonwealth,  —  then  the  confusion  of  domes- 
tic affairs  has  bred  a  fiend  before  whose  flight  honor 
fades  away,  and  under  whose  feet  the  sanctity  of  truth 
and  the  religion  of  solemn  compacts  are  stamped  down 
and  ground  into  the  dirt.  Keed  we  ask  the  causes  of 
growing  dishonesty  among  the  young,  and  the  increas- 
ing untrustworthiness  of  all  agents,  when  States  are 
seen  clothed  with  the  panoply  of  dishonesty,  and  na- 
tions put  on  fraud  for  their  garments  ? 

Absconding  agents,  swindling  schemes,  and  defalca- 
tions, occurring  in  such  melancholy  abundance,  have  at 
length  ceased  to  be  wonders,  and  rank  with  the  com- 
mon accidents  of  fire  and  flood.  The  budget  of  each 
week  is  incomplete  without  its  mob  and  runaway  cash- 
ier, its  duel  and  defaulter ;  and  as  waves  which  roll 
to  the  shore  are  lost  in  those  which  follow  on,  so  the 
villanies  of  each  week  obliterate  the  record  of  the  last. 

The  mania  of  dislionesty  cannot  arise  from  local 
causes  ;  it  is  the  result  of  disease  in  the  whole  commu- 
nity, an  eruption  betokening  foulness  of  the  blood, 
blotches  symptomatic  of  a  disordered  system. 

10.  Financial  agents  are  especially  liable  to  the 
temptations  of  dishonesty.  Safe  merchants  and  vision- 
ary schemers,  sagacious   adventurers  and  rash  specu- 


44  LECTURES  TO  YOUNG  MEN. 

lators,  frugal  beginners  and  retired  millionnaires,  are 
constantly  around  them.  Every  word,  every  act,  every 
entry,  every  letter,  suggests  only  wealth,  —  its  germ,  its 
bud,  its  blossom,  its  golden  harvest.  Its  brilliance 
dazzles  the  sight,  its  seductions  stir  the  appetites,  its 
power  fires  the  ambition,  and  the  soul  concentrates  its 
energies  to  obtain  wealth,  as  life's  highest  and  only  joy. 

Besides  the  influence  of  such  associations,  direct  deal- 
ing in  money  as  a  commodity  has  a  peculiar  effect 
upon  the  heart.  There  is  no  property  between  it  and 
the  mind,  no  medium  to  mellow  its  light.  The  mind  is 
diverted  and  refreshed  by  no  thoughts  upon  the  quality 
of  soils,  the  durability  of  structures,  the  advantages  of 
sites,  the  beauty  of  fabrics  ;  it  is  not  invigorated  by 
the  necessity  of  labor  and  ingenuity  which  the  mechanic 
feels,  by  the  invention  of  the  artisan,  or  the  taste  of 
the  artist.  The  whole  attention  falls  directly  upon 
naked  money.  The  hourly  sight  of  it  whets  the  appe- 
tite, and  sharpens  it  to  avarice.  Thus  with  an  intense 
regard  of  riches  steals  in  also  the  miser's  relish  of  coin, 
—  that  insatiate  gazing  and  fondling,  by  which  seduc- 
tive metal  wins  to  itself  all  the  blandishments  of  love. 

Those  who  mean  to  be  rich  often  begin  by  imitating 
the  expensive  courses  of  those  who  are  rich.  They  are 
also  tempted  to  venture,  before  they  have  means  of 
their  own,  in  brilliant  speculations.  How  can  a  young 
cashier  pay  the  drafts  of  his  illicit  pleasures,  or  procure 
the  seed  for  the  harvest  of  speculation,  out  of  his  nar- 
row salary  ?  Here  first  begins  to  work  the  leaven  of 
death.  The  mind  wanders  in  dreams  of  gain ;  it  broods 
over  projects  of  unlawful  riches,  stealthily  at  first,  and 
then  with  less  reserve ;  at  last  it  boldly  meditates  the 


TWELVE  CAUSES  OF  DISHONESTY.         45 

possibility  of  being  dishonest  and  safe.  Wlien  a  man 
can  seriously  reflect  upon  dishonesty  as  a  possible  and 
profitable  thing,  he  is  already  deeply  dishonest.  To  a 
mind  so  tainted  will  flock  stories  of  consummate  craft, 
of  effective  knavery,  of  fraud  covered  by  its  brilliant 
success.  At  times  the  mind  shrinks  from  its  own 
thoughts,  and  trembles  to  look  down  the  giddy  cliff  on 
whose  edge  they  poise,  or  over  which  they  fling  them- 
selves like  sporting  sea-birds.  But  these  imaginations 
will  not  be  driven  from  the  heart  where  they  have 
once  nested.  They  haunt  a  man's  business,  visit  him 
in  dreams,  and,  vampire-like,  fan  the  slumbers  of  the 
victim  whom  they  will  destroy.  In  some  feverish 
hour,  vibrating  between  conscience  and  avarice,  the 
man  staggers  to  a  compromise.  To  satisfy  his  con- 
science he  refuses  to  steal ;  and  to  gratify  his  avarice, 
he  horrows  the  funds,  not  openly,  not  of  owners,  not 
from  men,  but  from  the  till,  the  safe,  the  vault ! 

He  resolves  to  restore  the  money  before  discovery 
can  ensue,  and  pocket  the  profits.  Meanwhile,  false 
entries  are  made,  perjured  oaths  are  sworn,  forged  papers 
are  filed.  His  expenses  gTow  profuse,  and  men  wonder 
from  what  fountain  so  copious  a  stream  can  flow. 

Let  us  stop  here  to  survey  his  condition.  He  flour- 
ishes, is  called  prosperous,  thinks  himself  safe.  Is  he 
safe  or  honest?  He  has  stolen,  and  embarked  the 
amount  upon  a  sea  over  which  wander  perpetual  storms, 
where  wreck  is  the  common  fate,  and  escape  the  acci- 
dent ;  and  now  all  his  chance  for  the  semblance  of  hon- 
esty is  staked  upon  the  return  of  his  embezzlements 
from  among  the  sands,  the  rocks  and  currents,  the  winds 
and  waves   and   darkness,  of  tumultuous  speculation. 


46  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG  MEN. 

At  length  dawns  the  day  of  discovery.  His  guilty 
dreams  have  long  foretokened  it.  As  he  confronts  the 
disgrace  almost  face  to  face,  how  changed  is  the  hid- 
eous aspect  of  his  deed  from  that  fair  face  of  promise 
with  which  it  tempted  him  !  Conscience  and  honor 
and  plain  honesty,  which  left  him  when  they  could  not 
restrain,  now  come  back  to  sharj^enhis  anguish.  Over- 
awed by  the  prospect  of  open  shame,  of  his  wife's  dis- 
grace and  his  children's  beggary,  he  cows  down,  and 
slinks  out  of  life  a  frantic  suicide. 

Some  there  be,  however,  less  supple  to  shame.  They 
meet  their  fate  with  cool  impudence,  defy  their  em- 
ployers, brave  the  court,  and  too  often  with  success. 
The  delusion  of  the  public  mind  or  the  confusion  of 
affairs  is  such,  that,  while  petty  culprits  are  tumbled 
into  prison,  a  cool,  calculating,  and  immense  scoundrel 
is  pitied,  dandled,  and  nursed  by  a  sympathizing  com- 
munity. In  the  broad  road  slanting  to  the  rogue's  re- 
treat are  seen  the  officer  of  the  bank,  the  agent  of  the 
State,  the  officer  of  the  church,  in  indiscriminate  haste, 
outrunning  a  lazy  justice,  and  bearing  off  the  gains  of 
astounding  frauds.  Avarice  and  pleasure  seem  to  have 
dissolved  the  conscience.  It  is  a  day  of  troiMc  and 
of  imyUxity  from  the  Lord.  We  tremble  to  think  that 
our  children  must  leave  the  covert  of  the  family,  and 
go  out  upon  that  dark  and  yesty  sea,  from  whose  wrath 
so  many  wrecks  are  cast  up  at  our  feet.  Of  one  thing 
I  am  certain ;  if  the  Church  of  Christ  is  silent  to  such 
deeds,  and  makes  her  altar  a  refuge  to  such  dislionesty, 
the  day  is  coming  when  she  shall  have  no  altar,  the 
light  shall  go  out  from  her  candlestick,  her  walls  shall 
be  desolate,  and  the  fox  look  out  at  her  windows. 


TWELVE  CAUSES   OF  DISHONESTY.  47 

11.  ExECUTR^E  CLEMENCY,  by  its  frequency,  has  been 
a  temptation  to  dishonesty.  Who  will  fear  to  be  a 
culprit  when  a  legal  sentence  is  the  argument  of  pity 
and  the  prelude  of  pardon  ?  What  can  the  community 
expect  but  growing  dishonesty,  when  juries  connive  at 
acquittals,  and  judges  condemn  only  to  petition  a  par- 
don ;  when  honest  men  and  officers  fly  before  a  mob  ; 
when  jails  are  besieged  and  threatened,  if  felons  are  not 
relinquished ;  when  the  Executive,  consulting  the  spirit 
of  the  community,  receives  the  demands  of  the  mob,  and 
humbly  complies,  throwing  down  the  fences  of  the  law, 
that  base  rioters  may  walk,  unimpeded,  to  their  work  of 
vengeance,  or  unjust  mercy  ?  A  sickly  sentimentality 
too  often  enervates  the  administration  of  justice ;  and 
the  pardoning  power  becomes  the  master-key  to  let  out 
unwashed,  unrepentant  criminals.  They  have  fleeced 
us,  robbed  us,  and  are  ulcerous  sores  to  the  body  politic ; 
yet  our  heart  turns  to  water  over  their  merited  pun- 
ishment. A  fine  young  fellow,  by  accident,  writes 
another's  name  for  his  own ;  by  a  mistake  equally  un- 
fortunate he  presents  it  at  the  bank  ;  innocently  draws 
out  the  large  amount ;  generously  spends  a  part,  and 
absent-mindedly  hides  the  rest.  Hard-hearted  ^^^:etches 
there  are  who  would  punish  him  for  this  !  Young  men, 
admiring  the  neatness  of  the  affair,  pity  his  misfortune, 
and  curse  a  stupid  jury  that  knew  no  better  than  to 
send  to  a  penitentiary  him  whose  skill  deserved  a  cash- 
iership.  He  goes  to  his  cell,  the  pity  of  a  whole  metrop- 
olis. Bulletins  from  Sing-Sing  inform  us  daily  w^hat 
Edwards  is  doing,  as  if  he  were  Napoleon  at  St.  Helena. 
At  length,  pardoned,  he  will  go  forth  again  to  a  re- 
nowned liberty! 


48  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG  MEN. 

If  there  be  one  way  quicker  than  another,  by  which 
the  Executive  shall  assist  crime  and  our  laws  foster  it, 
it  is  that  course  which  assures  every  dishonest  man  that 
it  is  easy  to  defraud,  easy  to  avoid  arrest,  easy  to  escape 
punishment,  and  easiest  of  all  to  obtain  a  pardon. 

12.  Commercial  speculations  are  prolific  of  dis- 
honesty. Speculation  is  the  risking  of  capital  in  enter- 
prises greater  than  we  can  control,  or  in  enterprises 
whose  elements  are  not  at  all  calculable.  All  calcula- 
tions of  the  future  are  uncertain ;  but  those  which  are 
based  upon  long  experience  approximate  certainty,  while 
those  which  are  drawn  by  sagacity  from  probable  events 
are  notoriously  unsafe.  Unless,  however,  some  venture, 
we  shall  forever  tread  an  old  and  dull  path ;  therefore 
enterprise  is  allowed  to  pioneer  new  ways.  The  safe 
enterpriser  explores  cautiously,  ventures  at  first  a  little, 
and  increases  the  venture  with  the  ratio  of  experience. 
A  speculator  looks  out  upon  the  new  region  as  upon 
a  far-away  landscape,  whose  features  are  softened  to 
beauty  by  distance  ;  upon  a  liope  he  stakes  that  which, 
if  it  wins,  will  make  him,  and  if  it  loses,  will  ruin  him. 
When  the  alternatives  are  victory  or  utter  destruction, 
a  battle  may  sometimes  still  be  necessary.  But  com- 
merce has  no  such  alternatives ;  only  speculation  pro- 
ceeds upon  them. 

If  the  capital  is  borrowed,  it  is  as  dishonest,  upon 
such  ventures,  to  risk  as  to  lose  it.  Should  a  man  bor- 
row a  noble  steed  and  ride  among  incitements  which 
he  knew  would  rouse  up  his  fiery  spirit  to  an  uncon- 
trollable height,  and,  borne  away  with  wild  speed,  be 
plunged  over  a  precipice,  his  destruction  might  excite 
our  pity,  but  could  not  alter  our  opinion  of  his  dishon- 


TWELVE  CAUSES  OF  DISHOXESTY.        49 

esty.  He  borrowed  property,  and  endangered  it  where 
he  knew  that  it  would  be  uncontrollable. 

If  the  cajoital  be  one's  own,  it  can  scarcely  be  risked 
and  lost  without  the  ruin  of  other  men.  Xo  man  could 
blow  up  his  store  in  a  compact  street,  and  destroy  only 
his  own.  'Men  of  business  are,  like  threads  of  a  fabric, 
woven  together,  and  subject,  to  a  great  extent,  to  a  com- 
mon fate  of  prosperity  or  adversity.  I  have  no  right 
to  cut  off  my  hand ;  I  defraud  myself,  my  family,  the 
community,  and  God  ;  for  all  these  have  an  interest  in 
that  hand.  Neither  has  a  man  the  right  to  throw  away 
his  property.  He  defrauds  himself,  his  family,  the  com- 
munity in  which  he  dwells  ;  for  all  these  have  an  inter- 
est in  that  property.  If  waste  is  dishonesty,  then  every 
risk,  in  proportion  as  it  approaches  it,  is  dishonest.  To 
venture  without  that  foresight  which  experience  gives 
is  wrong ;  and  if  we  cannot  foresee,  then  we  must  not 
venture. 

Scheming  speculation  demoralizes  honesty  and  almost 
necessitates  dishonesty.  He  who  puts  his  own  inter- 
ests to  rash  ventures  will  scarcely  do  better  for  others. 
The  speculator  regards  the  weightiest  affair  as  only 
a  splendid  game.  Indeed,  a  speculator  on  the  ex- 
change and  a  gambler  at  his  table  follow  one  voca- 
tion, only  with  different  instruments.  One  employs 
cards  or  dice,  the  other  property.  The  one  can  no 
more  foresee  the  result  of  his  schemes  than  the  other 
what  spots  will  come  up  on  his  dice ;  the  calcula- 
tions of  both  are  only  the  chances  of  luck.  Both 
burn  with  unhealthy  excitement ;  both  are  avaricious 
of  gains,  but  careless  of  what  they  win ;  both  depend 
more  upon  fortune  than  skill ;  they  have  a  common  dis- 

3  D 


50  LECTUKES   TO   YOUNG  MEN. 

taste  for  labor ;  with  each,  right  and  wrong  are  only  the 
accidents  of  a  game  ;  neither  would  scruple  in  any  hour 
to  set  his  whole  being  on  the  edge  of  ruin,  and,  going 
over,  to  pull  down,  if  possible,  a  hundred  others. 

The  wreck  of  such  men  leaves  them  with  a  drunk- 
ard's appetite  and  a  fiend's  desperation.  The  revulsion 
from  extravagant  hopes  to  a  certainty  of  midnight 
darkness  ;  the  sensations  of  poverty,  to  him  who  was 
in  fancy  just  stepping  upon  a  princely  estate ;  the 
humiliation  of  gleaning  for  cents,  where  he  has  been 
profuse  of  dollars  ;  the  chagrin  of  seeing  old  competitors 
now  above  him,  grinning  down  upon  his  poverty  a 
malignant  triumph ;  the  pity  of  pitiful  men,  and  the 
neglect  of  such  as  should  have  been  his  friends,  —  and 
who  were,  while  the  sunshine  lay  upon  his  path,  all 
these  things,  like  so  many  strong  winds,  sweep  across 
the  soul  so  that  it  cannot  rest  in  the  cheerless  tranquil- 
lity of  honesty,  but  casts  up  mire  and  dirt.  How  stately 
the  balloon  rises  and  sails  over  continents,  as  over  petty 
landscapes !  The  slightest  slit  in  its  frail  covering 
sends  it  tumbling  down,  swaying  widely,  whirling  and 
pitching  hither  and  thither,  until  it  plunges  into  some 
dark  glen,  out  of  the  path  of  honest  men,  and  too  shat- 
tered to  tempt  even  a  robber.  So  have  we  seen  a  thou- 
sand men  pitched  down ;  so  now  in  a  thousand  places 
may  their  wrecks  be  seen.  But  still  other  balloons  are 
framing,  and  the  air  is  full  of  victim-venturers. 

If  our  young  men  are  introduced  to  life  with  distaste 
for  safe  ways  because  the  sure  profits  are  slow ;  if  the 
opinion  becomes  prevalent  that  all  business  is  great  only 
as  it  tends  to  the  uncertain,  the  extravagant,  and  the 
romantic,  then  we  may  stay  our  hand  at  once,  nor  waste 


twel-^t:  causes  of  dishoxesty.  51 

labor  in  absurd  expostulations  of  honesty.  I  had  as 
lief  preach  humanity  to  a  battle  of  eagles  as  to  urge 
honesty  and  integrity  upon  those  wlio  have  determined 
to  be  rich,  and  to  gain  it  by  gambling  stakes  and  mad- 
men's ventures. 

All  the  bankruptcies  of  commerce  are  harmless  com- 
pared with  a  bankruptcy  of  public  morals.  Should  the 
Atlantic  Ocean  break  over  our  shores,  and  roll  sheer 
across  to  the  Pacific,  sweeping  every  vestige  of  cultiva- 
tion and  burying  our  wealth,  it  would  be  a  mercy,  com- 
pared to  that  ocean-deluge  of  dishonesty  and  crime 
wliich,  sweeping  over  the  whole  land,  has  spared  our 
wealth  and  taken  our  virtue.  AVhat  are  cornfields  and 
vineyards,  what  are  stores  and  manufactures,  and  what 
are  gold  and  silver  and  all  the  precious  commodities  of 
the  earth,  among  beasts  ?  —  and  what  are  men,  bereft 
of  conscience  and  honor,  but  beasts  ? 

We  will  fore^et  those  things  which  are  behmd,  and 
hope  a  more  cheerful  future.  "We  turn  to  you,  youxg 
MEX  !  All  good  men,  all  patriots,  turn  to  watch  your 
advance  upon  the  stage,  and  to  implore  you  to  be  worthy 
of  yourselves  and  of  your  revered  ancestry.  0,  ye 
favored  of  Heaven  !  with  a  free  land,  a  noble  inheri- 
tance of  wise  laws,  and  a  prodigality  of  wealth  in  pros- 
pect, advance  to  your  possessions  !  May  you  settle 
down,  as  did  Israel  of  old,  a  people  of  God  in  a  prom- 
ised and  protected  land,  true  to  yourselves,  true  to 
your  country,  and  true  to  your  God ! 


^  v»  ^  ^^  ^  r-^,    r  ^ 


*    (^  .^/*   igf?  /^ 


/.'\  _^  ,  V  -^  ^  »,</  /f- 


•4-:^^  W^^^^'^a^'^^.^ir^  ^ 


LECTUEE  III. 
SIX   WARNINGS. 

**  The  generation  of  the  upright  shall  be  blessed,  wealth 

AND  riches  shall  BE  IN  HIS  HOUSE."  —  Ps.  Cxii.   2,   3. 
**He    that    GETTETH    riches,    and    NOT     BY    RIGHT,    SHALL     LEAVE 
THEM  IN  THE  MIDST  OF  HIS   DAYS,  AND   AT   THE   END    SHALL   BE   A 

FOOL." — Jer.  xvii.  11. 

HEIST  jnstly  obtained  and  rationally  used, 
riches  are  called  a  gift  of  God,  an  evidence 
of  his  favor,  and  a  great  reward.  When 
gathered  unjustly  and  corruptly  used, 
wealth  is  pronounced  a  canker,  a  rust,  a  fire,  a  curse. 
There  is  no  contradiction,  then,  when  the  Bible  persuades 
to  industry  and  integrity  by  a  promise  of  riches,  and 
then  dissuades  from  wealth  as  a  terrible  thing,  destroy- 
ing soul  and  body.  Blessings  are  vindictive  to  abusers, 
and  kind  to  rightful  users ;  they  serve  us,  or  rule  us. 
Eire  warms  our  dwelling,  or  consumes  it.  Steam  serves 
man,  and  also  destroys  him.  Iron,  in  the  plow,  the 
sickle,  the  house,  the  ship,  is  indispensable.  The  dirk, 
the  assassin's  knife,  the  cruel  sword,  and  the  spear  are 
iron  also. 

The  constitution  of  man  and  of  society  alike  evinces 
the  design  of  God.  Both  are  made  to  be  happier  by 
the  possession  of  riches ;  their  full  development  and 
perfection  are  dependent,  to  a  large  extent,  upon  wealth. 


SIX   WARNINGS.  53 

Without  it,  there  can  be  neither  books  nor  implements, 
neither  commerce  nor  arts,  neither  towns  nor  cities.  It 
is  a  folly  to  denounce  that,  a  love  of  which  God  has 
placed  in  man  by  a  constitutional  faculty,  that  with 
which  he  has  associated  high  grades  of  happiness,  that 
which  has  motives  touching  every  faculty  of  the  mind. 
Wealth  is  an  artist, — by  its  patronage  men  are  encour- 
aged to  paint,  to  carve,  to  design,  to  build,  and  adorn ; 
a  MASTER-MECHANIC,  —  and  inspires  man  to  invent,  to 
discover,  to  apply,  to  forge,  and  to  fashion  ;  a  hus- 
bandman,—  and  under  its  influence  men  rear  the  flock, 
till  the  earth,  plant  the  vineyard,  the  field,  the  orchard, 
and  the  garden ;  a  manufacturer,  —  and  teaches  men 
to  card,  to  spin,  to  weave,  to  color,  and  dress  all  useful 
fabrics ;  a  merchant,  —  and  sends  forth  ships,  and 
fills  warehouses  with  their  returning  cargoes  gathered 
from  every  zone.  It  is  the  scholar's  patron  ;  sustains 
his  leisure,  rewards  his  labor,  builds  the  college,  and 
gathers  the  library. 

Is  a  man  weak  ?  —  he  can  buy  the  strong.  Is  he 
ignorant  ?  —  the  learned  will  serve  his  wealth.  Is  he 
rude  of  speech  ?  —  he  may  procure  the  advocacy  of  the 
eloquent.  The  rich  cannot  buy  honor,  but  honorable 
places  they  can  ;  they  cannot  purchase  nobility,  but 
they  may  its  titles.  Money  cannot  buy  freshness  of 
heart,  but  it  can  ei-ery  luxury  wliich  tempts  to  enjoy- 
ment. Laws  are  its  body-guard,  and  no  earthly  power 
may  safely  defy  it,  either  while  running  in  the  swift 
channels  of  commerce,  or  reposing  in  the  reservoirs  of 
ancient  families.  Here  is  a  wonderful  thing,  that  an 
inert  metal,  which  neither  thinks  nor  feels  nor  stirs, 
can  set  the  whole  world  to  thinking,  planning,  run- 


54  LECTUEES  TO   YOUNG  MEN. 

uing,  digging,  fashioning,  and  drives  on  the  sweaty 
mass  with  never-ending  labors  ! 

Avarice  seeks  gold,  not  to  build  or  buy  therewith, 
not  to  clothe  or  feed  itself,  not  to  make  it  an  instru- 
ment of  wisdom,  of  sldll,  of  friendship,  or  religion. 
Avarice  seeks  it  to  heap  it  up  ;  to  walk  around  the  pile 
and  gloat  upon  it ;  to  fondle  and  court,  to  kiss  and  hug 
the  darhng  stuff  to  the  end  of  life  with  the  homage  of 
idolatry. 

Pride  seeks  it ;  for  it  gives  power  and  place  and 
titles,  and  exalts  its  possessor  above  his  fellows.  To  be 
a  thread  in  the  fabric  of  life,  just  like  any  other  thread, 
hoisted  up  and  down  by  the  treadle,  played  across  by 
the  shuttle,  and  woven  tightly  into  the  piece,  —  this 
may  suit  humility,  but  not  pride. 

Vanity  seeks  it ;  what  else  can  give  it  costly  cloth- 
ing and  rare  ornaments  and  stately  dwellings  and 
showy  equipage,  and  attract  admiring  eyes  to  its  gaudy 
colors  and  costly  jewels  ? 

Taste  seeks  it ;  because  by  it  may  be  had  whatever 
is  beautiful  or  refining  or  instructive.  What  leisure 
has  poverty  for  study,  and  how  can  it  collect  books^ 
manuscripts,  pictures,  statues,  coins,  or  curiosities  ? 

Love  seeks  it ;  to  build  a  home  full  of  delights  for 
father,  wife,  or  child  :  and,  wisest  of  all, 

Eeligion  seeks  it ;  to  make  it  the  messenger  and 
servant  of  benevolence  to  want,  to  suffering,  and  to 
ignorance. 

What  a  sight  does  the  busy  world  present,  as  of  a 
great  workshop,  where  hope  and  fear,  love  and  pride, 
and  lust  and  pleasure  and  avarice,  separate  or  in  part- 
nership, drive  on  the  universal  race  for  wealth :  delving 


SIX  WARNINGS.  55 

in  the  mine,  digging  in  the  earth,  sweltering  at  the  forge, 
plying  the  shuttle,  plowing  the  waters ;  in  houses,  in 
shops,  in  stores,  on  the  mountain-side  or  in  the  val- 
ley ;  by  skill,  by  labor,  by  thought,  by  craft,  by  force, 
by  traffic  ;  —  all  men,  in  all  places,  by  all  labors,  fair  and 
unfair,  the  world  around,  busy,  busy  ;  ever  searching  for 
wealth,  that  wealth  may  supply  their  pleasures. 

As  every  taste  and  inclination  may  receive  its  grati- 
fication through  riches,  the  universal  and  often  fierce 
pursuit  of  it  arises,  not  from  the  single  impulse  of 
avarice,  but  from  the  impulse  of  the  whole  mind ;  and 
on  this  very  account  its  pursuits  should  be  more  exactly 
regulated.  Let  me  set  up  a  warning  over  against  the 
special  dangers  which  lie  along  the  road  to  riches. 

I.  I  warn  you  against  thinking  that  riches  nrxessarily 
confer  happiness,  and  poverty  unhappiness.  Do  not 
begin  life  supposing  that  you  shall  be  heart-rich  when 
you  are  purse-rich.  A  man's  happiness  depends  pri- 
marily upon  his  disposition :  if  that  be  good,  riches  will 
bring  pleasure ;  but  only  vexation,  if  that  be  evil.  To 
lavish  money  upon  shining  trifles,  to  make  an  idol  of 
one's  self  for  fools  to  gaze  at,  to  rear  mansions  beyond 
our  wants,  to  garnish  them  for  display  and  not  for  use, 
to  chatter  through  the  heartless  rounds  of  pleasure,  to 
lounge,  to  gape,  to  simper  and  giggle,  —  can  wealth 
make  vanity  happy  by  such  folly  ?  If  wealth  descends 
upon  AVARICE,  does  it  confer  happiness  ?  It  blights  the 
heart,  as  autumnal  fires  ravage  the  prairies.  The  eye 
glows  with  greedy  cunning,  conscience  shrivels,  the  light 
of  love  goes  out,  and  the  wretch  moves  amidst  his  coin 
no  better,  no  happier,  than  a  loathsome  reptile  in  a  mine 
of  gold.     A  dreary  fire  of  self-love  burns  in  the  bosom 


56  LECTURES  TO  YOUNG  MEN. 

of  the  avaricious  rich,  as  a  hermit's  flame  in  a  ruined 
temple  of  the  desert.  The  fire  is  kindled  for  no  deity, 
and  is  odorous  with  no  incense,  but  only  warms  the 
shivering  anchorite. 

Wealth  will  do  little  for  lust  but  to  hasten  its  cor- 
ruption. There  is  no  more  happiness  in  a  foul  heart 
than  there  is  health  in  a  pestilent  morass.  Satisfaction 
is  not  made  out  of  such  stuft'  as  fighting  carousals,  ob- 
scene revelry,  and  midnight  orgies.  An  alligator,  gor- 
ging or  swollen  with  surfeit  and  basking  in  the  sun,  has 
the  same  happiness  which  riches  bring  to  the  man  who 
eats  to  gluttony,  drinks  to  drunkenness,  and  sleeps  to 
stupidity.  But  riches  indeed  bless  that  heart  whose 
almoner  is  benevolence.  If  the  taste  is  refined,  if  the 
affections  are  pure,  if  conscience  is  honest,  if  charity 
listens  to  the  needy  and  generosity  relieves  them ;  if 
the  public-spirited  hand  fosters  all  that  embellishes 
and  all  that  ennobles  society,  —  then  is  the  rich  man 
happy. 

On  the  other  hand,  do  not  suppose  that  poverty  is  a 
waste  and  howling  wilderness.  There  is  a  poverty  of 
vice,  mean,  loathsome,  covered  with  all  the  sores  of 
depravity.  There  is  a  poverty  of  indolence,  where  vir- 
tues sleep,  and  passions  fret  and  bicker.  There  is  a 
poverty  which  despondency  makes, — a  deep  dungeon, 
in  which  the  victim  wears  hopeless  chains.  May  God 
save  you  from  that !  There  is  a  spiteful  and  venomous 
poverty,  in  which  mean  and  cankered  hearts,  repairing 
none  of  their  own  losses,  spit  at  others'  prosperity,  and 
curse  the  rich,  themselves  doubly  cursed  by  their  own 
hearts. 

But  there  is  a  contented  poverty,  in  which  industry 


SIX  WARNINGS.  57 

and  peace  rule ;  and  a  joyful  hope,  which  looks  out 
into  another  world  where  riches  shall  neither  fly  nor 
fade.  This  poverty  may  possess  an  independent  mind, 
a  heart  ambitious  of  usefulness,  a  hand  quick  to  sow  the 
seed  of  other  men's  happiness,  and  find  its  own  joy 
in  their  enjoyment.  If  a  serene  age  finds  you  in  such 
poverty,  it  is  such  a  wilderness,  if  it  be  a  wilderness,  as 
that  in  which  God  led  his  chosen  people,  and  on  which 
he  rained  every  day  a  heavenly  manna. 

If  God  open  to  your  feet  the  way  to  wealth,  enter  it 
cheerfully  :  but  remember  that  riches  will  bless  or  curse 
you,  as  your  own  heart  determines.  But  if,  circum- 
scribed by  necessity,  you  are  still  indigent,  after  all 
your  industry,  do  not  scorn  poverty.  There  is  often  in 
the  hut  more  dignity  than  in  the  palace ;  more  satisfac- 
tion in  the  poor  man's  scanty  fare  than  in  the  rich 
man's  satiety. 

II.-  Men  are  warned  in  the  Bible  against  making 
HASTE  TO  BE  RICH.  He  that  liastctli  to  he  rich  hath  an 
evil  eye,  and  consider etli  ivot  that  'povertij  shcdl  come  upon 
him.  This  is  spoken,  not  of  the  alacrity  of  enterprise, 
but  of  the  precipitancy  of  avarice.  That  is  an  evil  eye 
which  leads  a  man  into  trouble  by  incorrect  vision. 
"When  a  man  seeks  to  prosper  by  crafty  tricks  instead 
of  careful  industry ;  when  a  man's  inordinate  covetous- 
ness  pushes  him  across  all  lines  of  honesty  that  he  may 
sooner  clutch  the  prize;  when  gambling  speculation 
would  reap  where  it  had  not  strewn ;  when  men  gain 
riches  by  crimes,  —  there  is  an  evil  eye,  which  guides 
them  tlirough  a  specious  prosperity  to  inevitaljle  ruin. 
So  dependent  is  success  upon  patient  industry,  that  he 
who  seeks  it  otherwise  tempts  his  own  ruin.     A  young 

3* 


68  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG  MEN. 

lawyer,  unwilling  to  wait  for  that  practice  which  re- 
wards a  good  reputation,  or  unwilling  to  earn  that  repu- 
tation by  severe  application,  rushes  through  all  the  dirty 
paths  of  chicane  to  a  hasty  prosperity ;  and  he  rushes 
out  of  it  by  the  dirtier  paths  of  discovered  villany.  A 
young  politician,  scarcely  waiting  till  the  law  allows 
his  majority,  sturdily  legs  for  that  popularity  which  he 
should  have  patiently  earned.  In  the  ferocious  conflicts 
of  political  life,  cunning,  intrigue,  falsehood,  slander, 
vituperative  violence,  at  first  sustain  his  pretensions, 
and  at  last  demolish  them.  It  is  thus  in  all  tlie  ways 
of  traffic,  in  all  the  arts  and  trades.  That  prosperity 
wdiich  grows  like  the  mushroom  is  as  poisonous  as  the 
mushroom.  Few  men  are  destroyed  ;  but  many  destroy 
themselves. 

When  God  sends  wealth  to  hless  men  he  sends  it 
gradually,  like  a  gentle  rain.  When  God  sends  riches 
to  punish  men,  they  come  tumultuously,  like  a  roaring 
torrent,  tearing  up  landmarks  and  sweeping  all  before 
them  in  promiscuous  ruin.  Almost  every  evil  which 
environs  the  path  to  wealth  springs  from  that  criminal 
haste  which  substitutes  adroitness  for  industry,  and  trick 
for  toil. 

III.  Let  me  warn  you  against  covetousness.  Tliou 
shall  not  covet  is  the  law  by  which  God  sought  to  bless 
a  favorite  people.  Covetousness  is  greediness  of  money. 
The  Bible  meets  it  with  significant  ivocs,^  by  God's 
hatred,^-  by  solemn  waitings, \  by  denunciations,^  by 
exclusion  from  heciven.\  This  pecuniary  gluttony  comes 
upon  the  competitors  for  wealth  insidiously.     At  first, 

*  Hab.  ii.  9.    +  Ps.  x.  3.    %  Luke  xii.  15.     §  1  Cor.  v.  10,  11  ;  Isa. 
vii.  17.     II 1  Cor.  vi.  10. 


SIX  WARNINGS.  59 

business  is  only  a  means  of  paying  for  our  pleasures. 
Vanity  soon  whets  the  appetite  for  money,  to  sustain 
her  parade  and  competition,  to  gratify  her  piques  and 
jealousies.  Pride  throws  in  fuel  for  a  brighter  flame. 
Vindictive  hatreds  often  augment  the  passion,  until  the 
whole  soul  glows  as  a  fervid  furnace,  and  the  body  is 
driven  as  a  boat  whose  ponderous  engine  trembles  with 
the  utmost  energy  of  steam. 

Covetousness  is  improfitable.  It  defeats  its  own  pur- 
poses. It  breeds  restless  daring  where  it  is  dangerous 
to  venture.  It  works  the  mind  to  fever,  so  that  its 
judgments  are  not  cool  nor  its  calculations  calm. 
Greed  of  money  is  like  fire ;  the  more  fuel  it  has, 
the  hotter  it  burns.  Everything  conspires  to  intensify 
the  heat.  Loss  excites  by  desperation,  and  gain  by  ex- 
hilaration. When  there  is  fever  in  the  blood,  there  is 
fire  on  the  brain ;  and  courage  turns  to  rashness,  and 
rashness  runs  to  ruin. 

Covetousness  breeds  misery.  The  sight  of  houses 
better  than  our  own,  of  dress  beyond  our  means,  of  jew- 
els costlier  than  we  may  wear,  of  stately  equipage  and 
rare  curiosities  beyond  our  reach,  —  these  hatch  the 
viper  brood  of  covetous  thoughts  ;  vexing  the  poor,  who 
would  be  rich  ;  tormentins^  the  rich,  who  would  be 
richer.  The  covetous  man  pines  to  see  pleasure  ;  is  sad 
in  the  presence  of  cheerfulness ;  and  the  joy  of  the 
world  is  his  sorrow,  because  all  the  happiness  of  others 
is  not  his.  I  do  not  wonder  that  God  cibhors  *  him.  He 
inspects  his  heart,  as  he  would  a  cave  full  of  noisome 
birds  or  a  nest  of  rattling  reptiles,  and  loathes  the  sight 
of  its  crawling  tenants.     To  the  covetous  man  life  is  a 

*  Ps.  X.  3. 


60  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG  MEN. 

nightmare,  and  God  lets  liim  wrestle  with  it  as  best  he 
may.  Mammon  might  build  its  palace  on  such  a  heart, 
and  Pleasure  bring  all  its  revelry  there,  and  Honor  all 
its  garlands,  —  it  would  be  like  pleasures  in  a  sepulchre 
and  garlands  on  a  tomb. 

The  creed  of  the  greedy  man  is  brief  and  consistent ; 
and,  unlike  other  creeds,  is  both  subscribed  and  believed. 
The  chief  end  of  man  is  to  glorify  gold  and  enjoy  it  for- 
ever :  life  is  a  time  afforded,  man  to  grow  rich  in  :  death, 
the  winding  up  of  sjjeculations :  heaven,  a  mart  with 
golden  streets  :  hell,  a  place  where  shiftless  men  are  pun- 
ished with  everlasting  poverty. 

God  searched  among  the  beasts  for  a  fit  emblem  of 
contempt  to  describe  the  end  of  a  covetous  prince :  He 
shall  he  huricd  with  the  hurial  of  an  ass,  draivn  and  cast 
forth  hcyond  the  gates  of  Jerusalem.'^  He  whose  heart 
is  turned  to  greediness,  who  sweats  through  life  under 
the  load  of  labor  only  to  heap  up  money,  and  dies  with- 
out private  usefulness  or  a  record  of  public  service,  is 
no  better,  in  God's  estimation,  than  a  pack-horse,  a 
mule,  an  ass ;  a  creature  for  burdens,  to  be  beaten 
and  worked  and  killed,  and  dragged  off  by  another  like 
him,  abandoned  to  the  birds  and  forgotten. 

He  is  buried  with  the  burial  of  an  ass  !  This  is 
the  miser's  epitaph,  —  and  yours,  young  man  !  if  you 
earn  it  by  covetousness  ! 

IV.  I  warn  you  against  selfishness.  Of  riches  it  is 
written :  There  is  no  good  in  them  hnt  for  a  man  to  re- 
joice and  to  do  good  in  his  life.  If  men  absorb  their 
property,  it  parclies  the  heart  so  that  it  will  not  give 
forth  blossoms  and  fruits,  but  only  thorns  and  thistles. 

*  Jer.  xxii,  19. 


SIX  WAEXINGS.  61 

If  men  radiate  and  reflect  upon  others  some  rays  of  the 
prosperity  which  shines  upon  themselves,  wealth  is  not 
only  harmless,  but  full  of  advantage. 

The  thoroughfares  of  wealth  are  crowded  by  a  throng 
who  jostle  and  thrust  and  conflict,  like  men  in  the 
tumult  of  a  battle.  The  rules  which  crafty  old  men 
breathe  into  the  ears  of  the  young  are  full  of  selfisli 
wisdom,  teaching  them  that  the  chief  end  of  man  is 
to  harvest,  to  husband,  and  to  hoard.  Their  life  is  made 
obedient  to  a  scale  of  preferences  graded  from  a  sordid 
experience,  a  scale  which  has  penury  for  one  extreme, 
and  parsimony  for  the  other ;  and  the  virtues  are  ranked 
between  them  as  they  are  relatively  fruitful  in  physical 
thrift.  Every  crevice  of  the  heart  is  calked  with  cos- 
tive maxims,  so  that  no  precious  drop  of  wealth  may 
leak  out  through  inadvertent  generosities.  Indeed, 
generosity  and  all  its  company  are  thought  to  be  little 
better  than  pilfering  picklocks,  against  whose  wiles  the 
heart  is  prepared,  like  a  coin-vault,  with  iron-clenched 
walls  of  stone  and  impenetrable  doors.  Mercy,  pity, 
and  sympathy  are  vagrant  fowls  ;  and  that  they  may 
not  scale  the  fence  between  a  man  and  his  neio'h- 
bors,  their  wings  are  clipped  by  the  miser's  master- 
maxim.  Charity  begins  at  home.  It  certainly  stays 
there. 

The  habit  of  regarding  men  as  dishonest  rivals  dries 
up,  also,  the  kindlier  feelings.  A  shrewd  trafficker 
must  watch  his  fellows,  be  suspicious  of  their  proffers, 
vigilant  of  their  movements,  and  jealous  of  their 
pledges.  The  world's  way  is  a  very  crooked  way,  and 
a  very  guileful  one.  Its  travelers  creep  by  stealth,  or 
walk  craftily,  or  glide  in  concealments,  or  appear  in  spe- 


62  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG  MEN. 

cious  guises.  He  wlio  stands  out  watching  among  men, 
to  pluck  his  advantage  from  their  hands,  or  to  lose  it 
by  their  wiles,  comes  at  length  to  regard  all  men  as 
either  enemies  or  instruments.  Of  course  he  thinks  it 
fair  to  strip  an  enemy,  and  just  as  fair  to  use  an  in- 
strument. Men  are  no  more  to  him  than  bales,  boxes, 
or  goods,  —  mere  matters  of  traffic.  If  he  ever  relaxes 
his  commercial  rigidity  to  indulge  in  the  fictions  of 
poetry,  it  is  when,  perhaps  on  Sundays  or  at  a  funeral, 
he  talks  quite  prettily  about  friendship  and  generosity 
and  philanthropy.  The  tightest  ship  may  leak  in  a 
storm,  and  an  unbartered  penny  may  escape  from  this 
man  when  the  surprise  of  the  solicitation  gives  no  time 
for  thought. 

The  heart  cannot  wholly  petrify  without  some  honest 
revulsions.  Opiates  are  administered  to  it.  This  busi- 
ness man  tells  his  heart  that  it  is  beset  by  unscrupulous 
enemies,  that  beneficent  virtues  are  doors  to  let  them 
in,  that  liberality  is  bread  given  to  one's  foes,  and 
selfishness  only  self-defense.  At  the  same  time  he 
enriches  the  future  with  generous  promises.  While  he 
is  getting  rich  he  cannot  afford  to  be  liberal ;  but  when 
once  he  is  rich,  ah  !  how  liberal  he  means  to  be  !  —  as 
though  habits  could  be  unbuckled  like  a  girdle,  and 
were  not  rather  steel  bands  riveted,  defying  the  edge 
of  any  man's  resolution,  and  clasping  the  heart  with 
invincible  servitude ! 

Thorough  selfishness  destroys  or  paralyzes  enjoyment. 
A  heart  made  selfish  by  the  contest  for  wealth  is  like  a 
citadel  stormed  in  war.  The  banner  of  victory  waves 
over  dilapidated  walls,  desolate  chambers,  and  magazines 
riddled  with  artillery.     Men,  covered  with  sweat  and 


SIX  WARNINGS.  63 

begrimed  with  toil,  expect  to  find  joy  in  a  heart  reduced 
by  selfishness  to  a  smouldering  heap  of  ruins. 

I  warn  every  aspirant  for  wealth  against  the  infernal 
canker  of  selfishness.  It  will  eat  out  of  the  heart  with 
the  fire  of  hell,  or  bake  it  harder  than  a  stone.  The 
heart  of  avaricious  old  age  stands  like  a  bare  rock  in 
a  bleak  wilderness,  and  there  is  no  rod  of  authority,  nor 
incantation  of  pleasure,  which  can  draw  from  it  one 
crystal  drop  to  quench  the  raging  thirst  for  satisfaction. 
But  listen  not  to  my  words  alone  ;  hear  the  solemn  voice 
of  God,  pronouncing  doom  upon  the  selfish  :  Your  riches 
are  corrupted^  and  your  garments  arc  moth-eaten.  Your 
gold  and  silver  is  cankered  ;  and  the  rust  of  them  shall 
he  a  tvitness  against  you,  and  shall  eat  your  flesh  as  it 
were  fire.* 

y.  I  warn  you  against  seeking  wealth  by  covert 
DISHONESTY.  The  everlasting  plea  of  petty  fraud  or 
open  dishonesty  is  its  necessity  or  'profitahleness. 

It  is  neither  necessary  nor  profitable.  The  hope  is  a 
deception  and  the  excuse  a  lie.  The  severity  of  com- 
petition affords  no  reason  for  dishonesty  in  word  or  deed. 
Competition  is  fair,  but  not  all  methods  of  competition. 
A  mechanic  may  compete  with  a  mechanic  by  rising 
earlier,  by  greater  industry,  by  greater  skill,  more  punc- 
tuality, greater  thoroughness,  by  employing  better  ma- 
terials, by  a  more  scrupulous  fidehty  to  promises,  and 
by  faciHty  in  accommodation.  A  merchant  may  study 
to  excel  competitors  by  a  better  selection  of  goods,  by 
more  obliging  manners,  by  more  rigid  honesty,  by  a 
better  knowledge  of  the  market,  by  better  taste  in  the 
arrangement  of  his  goods.      Industry,  honesty,  Idnd- 

*  James  v.  2,  3. 


64  LECTURES  TO   YOUNG  MEN. 

ness,  taste,  genius,  and  skill  are  the  only  materials  of 
all  rightful  competition. 

But  whenever  you  have  exerted  all  your  knowledge, 
all  your  skill,  all  your  industry,  with  long-continued 
patience  and  without  success,  then  it  is  clear,  not  that 
you  may  proceed  to  employ  trick  and  cunning,  but  that 
you  must  stop.  God  has  put  before  you  a  bound  which 
no  man  may  overleap.  There  may  be  the  appearance  of 
gain  on  the  knavish  side  of  the  wall  of  honor.  Traps 
are  always  baited  with  food  sweet  to  the  taste  of  the 
intended  victim ;  and  Satan  is  too  crafty  a  trapper  not 
to  scatter  the  pitfall  of  dishonesty  with  some  shining 
particles  of  gold. 

But  wdiat  if  fraud  were  necessary  to  permanent  suc- 
cess, will  you  take  success  upon  such  terms  ?  I  per- 
ceive, too  often,  that  young  men  regard  the  argument 
as  ended  when  they  prove  to  themselves  that  they  can- 
not be  rich  ivithout  guile.  Very  well ;  then  be  poor. 
But  if  you  prefer  money  to  honor,  you  may  well  swear 
fidelity  to  the  villain's  law  !  If  it  is  not  base  and  de- 
testable to  gain  by  equivocation,  neither  is  it  by  lying  ; 
and  if  not  by  lying,  neither  is  it  by  stealing  ;  and  if  not 
by  stealing,  neither  by  robbery  nor  murder.  Will  you 
tolerate  the  loss  of  honor  and  honesty  for  the  sake  of 
profit  ?  For  exactly  this  Judas  betrayed  Christ,  and 
Arnold  his  country.  Because  it  is  the  only  way  to  gain 
some  pleasure,  may  a  wife  yield  her  honor,  a  poli- 
tician sell  himself,  a  statesman  barter  his  counsel, 
a  judge  take  bribes,  a  juryman  forswear  himself,  or 
a  witness  commit  perjury  ?  Then  virtues  are  market- 
able commodities,  and  may  be  hung  up,  like  meat  in 
the  sliambles,  or  sold  at  auction  to  the  hidiest  bidder. 


SIX  WARNINGS.  65 

Who  can  afford  a  victory  gained  by  a  defeat  of  his 
virtue  ?  What  pros]3erity  can  compensate  the  plunder- 
ing of  a  man's  heart  ?  A  good  oiamc  is  rather  to  be 
chosen  than  great  riches :  sooner  or  later  every  man  will 
find  it  so. 

With  what  dismay  would  Esau  have  sorrowed  for  a 
lost  birthright,  had  he  lost  also  the  pitiful  mess  of  pot- 
tage for  which  he  sold  it  ?  With  what  double  despair 
would  Judas  have  clutched  at  death,  if  he  had  not  ob- 
tained even  the  thirty  pieces  of  silver  which  were  to 
pay  his  infamy  ?  And  with  what  utter  confusion  will 
all  dishonest  men,  who  were  learning  of  the  Devil  to 
defraud  other  men,  find,  at  length,  that  he  was  giving 
his  most  finished  lesson  of  deception,  —  by  cheatiog 
them,  and  making  poverty  and  disgrace  the  only  fruit 
of  the  lies  and  frauds  which  were  framed  for  profit ! 
Getting  treasure  hy  a  lying  tongue  is  a  vanity  tossed  to 
and  fro  of  them  that  seek  death. 

Men  have  only  looked  upon  the  hcginning  of  a  career 
when  they  pronounce  upon  the  profitableness  of  dis- 
honesty. Many  a  ship  goes  gayly  out  of  harbor  which 
never  returns  again.  That  only  is  a  good  voyage  which 
brings  home  the  richly  freighted  ship,  God  explicitly 
declares  that  an  inevitable  curse  of  dishonesty  shall  fall 
upon  the  criminal  himself,  or  upon  his  children  :  He 
that  hy  usury  and  unjust  gain  incrcasetli  his  sid)stance, 
he  shall  gather  it  for  him  that  luill  pity  the  2)oor.  His 
children  are  far  from  safety,  and  they  are  crushed  in  the 
gate.  Neither  is  there  any  to  deliver  them :  the  rohher 
swalloiueth  up  their  suhstance. 

Iniquities,  whose  end  is  dark  as  midnight,  are  per- 
mitted to  open  bright  as  the  morning  ;  the  most  poi- 


66  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG  MEN. 

sonous  bud  unfolds  witli  brilliant  colors.  So  the 
threshold  of  perdition  is  burnished  till  it  glows  like  the 
gate  of  paradise.  There  is  a  ivaij  which  seemeth  right 
unto  a  man,  hut  the  ends  thereof  are  the  ways  of  death. 
This  is  dishonesty  described  to  the  life.  At  first  you 
look  down  upon  a  smooth  and  verdant  path  covered 
w^ith  flowers,  perfumed  with  odors,  and  overhung  with 
fruits  and  grateful  shade.  Its  long  perspective  is  illu- 
sive ;  for  it  ends  quickly  in  a  precipice,  over  which  you 
pitch  into  irretrievable  ruin. 

For  the  sources  of  this  inevitable  disaster  we  need 
look  no  further  than  the  effect  of  dishonesty  upon  a 
man's  own  mind.  The  difference  between  cunning  and 
wisdom  is  the  difference  between  acting  by  the  certain 
and  immutable  laws  of  nature  and  acting  by  the  shifts 
of  temporary  expedients.  An  honest  man  puts  his 
prosx3erity  upon  the  broad  current  of  those  laws  which 
govern  the  world.  A  crafty  man  means  to  pry  between 
them,  to  steer  across  them,  to  take  advantage  of  them. 
An  honest  man  steers  by  God's  chart ;  and  a  dishonest 
man  by  his  own.  Which  is  the  most  liable  to  perplex- 
ities and  fatal  mistakes  of  judgment  ?  "Wisdom  steadily 
ripens  to  the  end ;  cunning  is  worm-bitten,  and  soon 
drops  from  the  tree. 

I  could  repeat  the  names  of  many  men  (every  village 
has  such,  and  they  swarm  in  cities)  who  are  skillful,  in- 
defatigable, but  audaciously  dishonest ;  and  for  a  time 
they  seemed  going  straight  forward  to  the  realm  of 
wealth.  I  never  knew  a  single  one  to  avoid  ultimate 
ruin.  Men  who  act  under  dishonest  passions  are  like 
men  riding  fierce  horses.  It  is  not  always  with  the 
rider  when  or  where  he  shall  stop.     If  for  his  sake  the 


SIX  WAENDsGS.  67 

steed  dashes  wildly  on  while  the  road  is  smooth,  so, 
turning  suddenly  into  a  rough  and  dangerous  way,  the 
rider  must  go  madly  forward  for  the  steed's  sake,  —  now 
chafed,  his  mettle  up,  his  eye  afire,  and  beast  and  bur- 
den like  a  bolt  speeding  through  the  air,  until  some 
bound  or  sudden  fall  tumble  both  to  the  ground,  a 
crushed  and  mangled  mass. 

A  man  pursuing  plain  ends  by  honest  means  may  be 
trouUcd  on  every  side,  yet  not  distressed  ;  'j^erj^Uxed,  hut 
not  in  despair  ;  persecuted,  hut  not  forsaken  ;  cast  down, 
hut  not  destroyed.  But  those  that  pursue  their  advan- 
tage by  a  round  of  dishonesties,  lolienfear  cometh  as  a 
desolation,  and  destruction  as  a  luhirhcind,  luhen  distress 
and  anguish  come  iqoon  tliem,  ....  slicdl  eat  of  the 
fruit  of  their  own  way,  and  he  filled  luith  their  own  de- 
vices ;  for  the  turning  away  of  the  simpile  shall  slay  them, 
and  the  prosperity  of  fools  shcdl  destroy  them. 

VI.  The  Bible  Overflows  with  warnings  to  those  who 
gain  wealth  by  violent  extortion  or  by  any  flagrant 
villany.  Some  men  stealthily  slip  from  under  them  the 
possessions  of  the  poor.  Some  beguile  the  simple  and 
heedless  of  their  patrimony.  Some  tyrannize  over 
ignorance,  and  extort  from  it  its  fair  domains.  Some 
steal  away  the  senses  and  intoxicate  the  mind,  the 
more  readily  and  largely  to  clieat ;  some  set  their  traps 
in  all  the  dark  places  of  men's  adversity,  and  prowl  for 
wrecks  all  along  the  shores  on  which  men's  fortunes  go 
to  pieces.  Men  will  take  advantage  of  extreme  misery 
to  wTing  it  with  more  griping  tortures,  and  compel  it  to 
the  extremest  sacrifices  ;  and  stop  only  when  no  more 
can  be  borne  by  the  sufferer,  or  nothing  more  extracted 
by  the  usurer.     The  earth  is  as  full  of  avaricious  mon- 


68  LECTURES  TO   YOUNG   MEN. 

sters  as  the  tropical  forests  are  of  beasts  of  prey.  But 
amid  all  the  lions  and  tigers  and  hyenas  is  seen  the 
stately  bulk  of  three  huge  Behemoths. 

The  first  Behemoth  is  that  incarnate  fiend  who  navi- 
gates the  ocean  to  traffic  in  human  misery  and  freight 
with  the  groans  and  tears  of  agony.  Distant  shores  are 
sought  with  cords  and  manacles,  villages  surprised 
with  torch  and  sword,  and  the  loathsome  ship  swal- 
lows what  the  sword  and  the  fire  have  spared.  By 
night  and  day  the  voyage  speeds,  and  the  storm  spares 
wretches  more  relentless  than  itself  The  wind  wafts 
and  the  sun  lights  the  path  for  a  ship  whose  log  is  writ- 
ten in  blood.  Hideous  profits,  dripping  red,  even  at  this 
hour,  lure  these  infernal  miscreants  to  their  remorseless 
errands.  The  thirst  of  gold  inspires  such  courage,  skill, 
and  cunning  vigilance,  that  the  thunders  of  four  allied 
navies  cannot  sink  the  infamous  fleet. 

What  wonder  ?  Just  such  a  Behemoth  of  rapacity 
stalks  among  us,  and  fattens  on  the  blood  of  our  sons. 
Men  there  are,  who,  without  a  pang  or  gleam  of  remorse, 
will  coolly  wait  for  character  to  rot,  and  health  to  sink, 
and  means  to  melt,  that  they  may  suck  up  the  last  drop 
of  the  victim's  blood.  Our  streets  are  full  of  reeling 
wretches  whose  bodies  and  manhood  and  souls  have 
been  crushed  and  put  to  the  press,  that  monsters  might 
wring  out  of  them  a  wine  for  their  infernal  thirst.  The 
agony  of  midnight  massacre,  the  frenzy  of  the  ship's 
dungeon,  the  living  death  of  the  middle  passage,  the 
wails  of  separation,  and  the  dismal  torpor  of  hopeless 
servitude,  —  are  tliese  found  only  in  the  piracy  of  the 
slave-trade  ?  They  all  are  among  us  !  worse  assassina- 
tions !  worse  dragging  to  a  prison-ship  I  worse  groans 


SIX  WARNINGS.  69 

ringing  from  the  fetid  hold  !  worse  separations  of  fami- 
lies !  worse  bondage  of  intemperate  men,  enslaved  by 
that  most  inexorable  of  all  taskmasters,  sensual  habit ! 
The  third  Behemoth  is  seen  lurking  among  the  In- 
dian savages,  and  bringing  the  arts  of  learning  and  the 
skill  of  civilization  to  aid  in  plundering  the  debauched 
barbarian.  The  cunning,  murdering,  scalping  Indian 
is  no  match  for  the  Christian  white  man.  Compared 
with  the  midnight  knavery  of  men  reared  in  schools, 
rocked  by  religion,  tempered  and  taught  by  the  humane 
institutions  of  liberty  and  civilization,  all  the  craft  of 
the  savage  is  twilight.  Vast  estates  have  been  accumu- 
lated without  having  an  honest  farthing  in  them.  Our 
Penitentiaries  might  be  sent  to  school  to  the  Treaty- 
grounds  and  Council-grounds.  Smugglers  and  swindlers 
might  humble  themselves  in  the  presence  of  Indian 
traders.  All  the  crimes  against  property  known  to  our 
laws  flourish  with  unnatural  vigor,  and  some  unlmown 
to  civilized  villany.  To  swindle  ignorance,  to  overreach 
simplicity,  to  lie  without  scruple  to  any  extent,  from 
mere  implication  down  to  perjury ;  to  tempt  the  savages 
to  rob  each  other,  and  to  receive  their  plunder ;  to  sell 
goods  at  incredible  prices  to  the  sober  Indian,  then  to 
intoxicate  him,  and  steal  them  all  back  by  a  sham  bar- 
gain, to  be  sold  again  and  stolen  again;  to  employ 
falsehood,  lust,  threats,  whiskey,  and  even  the  knife  and 
the  pistol ;  in  short,  to  consume  the  Indian's  substance 
by  every  vice  and  crime  possible  to  an  imprincipled 
heart  inflamed  with  an  insatiable  rapacity,  unwatched 
by  justice,  and  unrestrained  by  law,  —  this  it  is  to  be 
an  Indian  trader.  I  would  rather  inherit  the  bowels 
of  Vesuvius,  or  make  my  bed  in  Etna,  than  own  those 


70  LECTURES   TO  YOUNG  MEN. 

estates  wliicli  have  been  scalped  off  from  human  beings 
as  the  hunter  strips  a  beaver  of  its  fur.  Of  all  these, 
of  ALL  who  gain  possessions  by  extortion  and  robbery, 
never  let  yourself  be  envious  !  /  was  envious  at  the 
foolish,  tuhen  I  saw  the  jprosperity  of  the  wicked.  Their 
eyes  stand  out  luith  fatness :  they  have  more  than  heart 
could  wish.  Tliey  are  corrupt,  and  speak  wickedly  con- 
cerning oppression.  They  have  set  their  mouth  against 
the  heaven,  and  their  tongue  walketh  through  the  earth. 
When  I  sought  to  knoiv  this,  it  was  too  painful  for  me, 
until  I  went  into  the  sanctuary.  Surely  thou  didst  set 
them  in  slippery  places  !  thou  castedst  them  down  into  de- 
struction as  in  a  moment  !  They  are  utterly  consumed 
with  te7'rors.  As  a  dream  ivhen  one  awakcth,  so,  0  Lord, 
when  thou  awakest,  thou  shalt  despise  their  image  ! 

I  would  not  bear  their  heart  who  have  so  made 
money,  were  the  world  a  solid  globe  of  gold,  and  mine. 
I  would  not  stand  for  them  in  the  judgment,  were  every 
star  of  heaven  a  realm  of  riches,  and  mine.  I  would 
not  walk  with  them  the  burning  marl  of  hell,  to  bear 
their  torment,  and  utter  their  groans,  for  the  throne  of 
God  itself. 

Let  us  hear  the  conclusion  of  the  whole  matter. 
Eiches  got  by  deceit  cheat  no  man  so  much  as  the 
getter.  Eiches  bought  with  guile  God  will  pay  for 
with  vengeance.  Eiches  got  by  fraud  are  dug  out  of 
one's  own  heart,  and  destroy  the  mine.  Unjust  riches 
curse  the  owner  in  getting,  in  keeping,  in  transmitting. 
They  curse  his  children  in  their  father's  memory,  in 
their  own  wasteful  habits,  in  drawing  around  them  all 
bad  men  to  be  their  companions. 

Wliile  I  do  not  discourage  your  search  for  wealth,  I 


SIX  WARNINGS.  71 

warn  you  that  it  is  not  a  cruise  upon  level  seas  and  un- 
der bland  skies.  You  advance  where  ten  thousand  are 
broken  in  pieces  before  they  reach  the  mart ;  where 
those  who  reach  it  are  worn  out,  by  their  labors,  past 
enjoying  their  riches.  You  seek  a  land  pleasant  to  the 
sight,  but  dangerous  to  the  feet ;  a  land  of  fragrant 
winds,  which  lull  to  security ;  of  golden  fruits  which  are 
poisonous ;  of  glorious  hues,  which  dazzle  and  mislead. 

You  may  be  rich  and  be  pure ;  but  it  will  cost  you  a 
struggle.  You  may  be  rich  and  go  to  heaven  ;  but  ten, 
doubtless,  will  sink  beneath  their  riches,  where  one 
breaks  through  them  to  heaven.  If  you  have  entered 
this  shining  way,  begin  to  look  for  snares  and  traps. 
Go  not  careless  of  your  danger,  and  provoking  it.  See, 
on  every  side  of  you,  how  many  there  are  who  seal 
God's  word  with  their  blood  :  — 

They  that  will  he  rich  fall  into  temptation  and  a  snare, 
and  into  many  foolish  and  hurtful  lusts,  ivhich  droivn 
men  in  destruction  and  perditio7i.  For  the  love  of 
money  is  the  root  of  all  evil,  vjhich,  ivhile  some  have  cov- 
eted after,  they  have  erred  from  th&  faith,  and  pierced 
themselves  through  with  many  sorrows. 


LECTUEE  IV. 


PORTRAIT    GALLERY. 


My  son,  if  sinners  entice  thee,  consent  thou  not."  — 
Proverbs  i.  10. 

E  who  is  allured  to  embrace  evil  under  some 
engaging  form  of  beauty  or  seductive  ap- 
pearance of  good  is  enticed.  A  man  is 
terii2:)ted  to  what  he  knows  to  be  sinful ;  he 
is  enticed  where  the  evil  appears  to  be  innocent.  The 
enticer  wins  his  way  by  bewildering  the  moral  sense, 
setting  false  lights  ahead  of  the  imagination,  painting 
disease  with  the  hues  of  health,  making  impurity  to 
glow  like  innocency,  strewing  the  broad  road  with  flow- 
ers, lulling  its  travelers  with  soothing  music,  hiding  all 
its  chasms,  covering  its  pitfalls,  and  closing  its  long 
perspective  with  the  mimic  glow  of  paradise. 

The  young  are  seldom  tempted  to  outright  wicked- 
ness ;  evil  conies  to  them  as  an  enticement.  The  honest 
generosity  and  fresh  heart  of  youth  would  revolt  from 
open  meanness  and  undisguised  vice.  The  Adversary 
conforms  his  wiles  to  their  nature.  He  tempts  them 
to  the  basest  deeds  by  beginning  with  innocent  ones, 
gliding  to  more  exceptionable,  and,  finally,  to  positively 
wicked  ones.  All  our  warnings,  then,  must  be  against 
the  vernal  beauty  of  vice.     Its  autumn  and  winter  none 


PORTRAIT   GALLERY.  73 

wish.     It  is  my  purpose  to  describe  the  enticement  of 
particular  men  upon  the  young. 

Every  youth  knows  that  there  are  dangerous  men 
abroad  who  would  injure  him  by  lying,  by  slander,  by 
overreaching  and  plundering  him.  From  such  they 
have  little  to  fear,  because  they  are  upon  their  guard. 
Few  imagine  that  they  have  anything  to  dread  from 
those  who  have  no  designs  against  them ;  yet  such  is 
the  instinct  of  imitation,  so  insensibly  does  the  example 
of  men  steal  upon  us  and  warp  our  conduct  to  their 
likeness,  that  the  young  often  receive  a  deadly  injury 
from  men  with  whom  they  never  spoke.  As  all  bodies 
in  nature  give  out  or  receive  caloric  until  there  is  an 
equilibrium  of  temperature,  so  there  is  a  radiation  of 
character  upon  character.  Our  thoughts,  our  tastes,  our 
emotions,  our  partialities,  our  prejudices,  and,  finally,  our 
conduct  and  habits,  are  insensibly  changed  by  the  silent 
influence  of  men  who  never  once  directly  tempted  us, 
or  even  knew  the  effect  which  they  produced.  I  shall 
draw  for  your  inspection  some  of  those  dangerous  men, 
whose  open  or  silent  enticement  has  availed  against 
thousands,  and  will  be  exerted  upon  thousands  more. 

I.  The  Wit.  It  is  sometimes  said  by  phlegmatic 
theologians  that  Christ  never  laughed,  but  often  wept. 
I  shall  not  quarrel  with  the  assumption.  I  only  say 
that  men  have  within  them  a  faculty  of  mirthfulness 
which  God  created.  I  suppose  it  was  meant  for  use. 
Those  who  do  not  feel  the  impulsion  of  this  faculty  are 
not  the  ones  to  sit  in  judgment  upon  those  who  do.  It 
would  be  very  absurd  for  an  owl  in  an  ivy-bush  to  read 
lectures  on  optics  to  an  eagle  ;  or  for  a  mole  to  counsel 
a  lynx  on  the  sin  of  sharp-sightedness.     He  is  di\dnely 

4 


74  LECTURES   TO  YOUNG  MEN. 

N 

favored  who  may  trace  a  silver  vein  in  all  the  affairs  of 
life,  see  sparkles  of  light  in  the  gloomiest  scenes,  and 
absolute  radiance  in  those  which  are  bright.  There  are 
in  the  clouds  ten  thousand  inimitable  forms  and  hues  to 
be  found  nowhere  else ;  there  are  in  plants  and  trees 
beautiful  shapes  and  endless  varieties  of  color;  there 
are  in  flowers  minute  pencilings  of  exquisite  shade ;  in 
fruits  a  delicate  bloom,  —  like  a  veil,  making  the  face 
of  beauty  more  beautiful ;  sporting  among  the  trees  and 
upon  the  flowers  are  tiny  insects,  gems  which  glow 
like  living  diamonds.  Ten  thousand  eyes  stare  full 
npon  these  things  and  see  nothing ;  and  yet  thus  the 
Divine  Artist  has  finished  his  matchless  work.  Thus, 
too,  upon  all  the  labors  of  life,  the  events  of  each  hour, 
the  course  of  good  or  evil ;  upon  each  action,  or  word, 
or  attitude ;  upon  all  the  endless  changes  transpiring 
among  myriad  men,  there  is  a  delicate  grace,  or  bloom, 
or  si)arkle,  or  radiance,  which  catches  the  eye  of  wit, 
and  delights  it  with  appearances  which  are  to  the 
weightier  matters  of  life  what  odor,  colors,  and  sym- 
metry are  to  the  marketable  and  commercial  properties 
of  matter. 

A  mind  imbued  with  this  feeling  is  full  of  dancing 
motes,  such  as  we  see  moving  in  sunbeams  when  they 
pour  through  some  shutter  into  a  dark  room ;  and  when 
the  sights  and  conceptions  of  wit  are  uttered  in  words, 
they  diffuse  upon  others  that  pleasure  whose  brightness 
shines  upon  its  own  cheerful  imagination. 

It  is  not  strange  that  the  wit  is  a  universal  favorite. 
All  companies  rejoice  in  his  presence,  watch  for  his 
words,  repeat  his  language.  He  moves  like  a  comet 
whose  incomings  and  outgoings  are  uncontrollable.    He 


PORTEAIT   GALLERY.  75 

astonishes  the  regular  stars  with  the  eccentricity  of  his 
orbit,  and  flirts  his  long  tail  athwart  the  heaven  without 
the  slightest  misgivings  that  it  will  be  troublesome,  and 
coquets  the  very  sun  with  audacious  familiarity.  When 
wit  is  unperverted,  it  lightens  labor,  makes  the  very  face 
of  care  to  shine,  diffuses  cheerfulness  among  men,  mul- 
tiplies the  sources  of  harmless  enjoyment,  gilds  the  dark 
things  of  life,  and  heightens  the  lustre  of  the  brightest. 
If  perverted,  wit  becomes  an  instrument  of  malevolence, 
it  gives  a  deceitful  coloring  to  vice,  it  reflects  a  sem- 
blance of  truth  upon  error,  and  distorts  the  features  of 
real  truth  by  false  lights. 

The  wit  is  liable  to  indolence,  by  relying  upon  his 
genius ;  to  vanity,  by  the  praise  which  is  offered 
as  incense;  to  malignant  sarcasm  to  avenge  his  af- 
fronts ;  to  dissipation,  from  the  habit  of  exhilaration, 
and  from  the  company  which  court  him.  The  mere 
wit  is  only  a  human  bauble.  He  is  to  life  what  bells 
are  to  horses,  —  not  expected  to  draw  the  load,  but  only 
to  jingle  while  the  horses  draw. 

The  young  often  repine  at  their  own  native  dullness ; 
and  since  God  did  not  choose  to  endow  them  with  this 
shining  quality,  they  will  make  it  for  themselves. 
Forthwith  they  are  smitten  with  the  itch  of  imitation. 
Their  ears  purvey  to  their  mouth  the  borrowed  jest, 
their  eyes  note  the  wit's  fashion ;  and  the  awkward 
youth  clumsily  apes,  in  a  side  circle,  the  wit's  deft  and 
graceful  gesture,  the  smooth  smile,  the  roguish  twinkle, 
the  sly  look,  much  as  Caliban  would  imitate  Ariel. 
Every  community  is  supplied  with  self-made  wits. 
One  retails  other  men's  sharp  witticisms  as  a  Jew  puts 
off  threadbare  garments.     Another  roars  over  his  own 


76  LECTURES  TO  YOUNG   MEN. 

brutal  quotations  of  Scripture.  Another  invents  a  wit- 
ticism by  a  logical  deduction  of  circumstances,  and  sniffs 
and  giggles  over  the  result  as  complacently  as  if  other 
men  laughed  too.  Others  lie  in  wait  around  your  con- 
versation to  trip  up  some  word  or  strike  a  light  out  of 
some  sentence.  Others  fish  in  dictionaries  for  pitiful 
puns.  And  all  fulfil  the  prediction  of  Isaiah,  Ye  shall 
conceive  chaff,  and  hring  forth  stuhUe. 

It  becomes  a  mania.  Each  school  has  its  allusions, 
each  circle  has  its  apish  motion,  each  companionhood  its 
park  of  wit-artillery  ;  and  we  find  street-wit,  shop- wit, 
auction-wit,  school-wit,  fool's-wit,  whiskey-wit,  stable- 
wit,  and  almost  every  kind  of  wit  but  mother-wit, — 
puns,  quibbles,  catches,  would-be-jests,  threadbare  stories, 
and  gewgaw  tinsel,  —  everything  but  the  real  diamond, 
which  sparkles  simply  because  God  made  it  so  that  it 
could  not  help  sparkling.  Eeal,  native  mirthfulness  is 
like  a  pleasant  rill  which  quietly  wells  up  in  some  ver- 
dant nook,  and  steals  out  from  among  reeds  and  willows 
noiselessly,  and  is  seen  far  down  the  meadow,  as  much 
by  the  fruitfulness  of  its  edges  in  flowers  as  by  its  own 
glimmering  light. 

Let  every  one  beware  of  the  insensible  effect  of  witty 
men  upon  him ;  they  gild  lies,  so  that  base  coin  may 
pass  for  true;  that  which  is  grossly  wrong  wit  may 
make  fascinating ;  when  no  argument  could  persuade 
you,  the  coruscations  of  wit  may  dazzle  and  blind  you ; 
when  duty  presses  you,  the  threaten ings  of  this  human 
lightning  may  make  you  afraid  to  do  right.  Eemember 
that  the  very  hcst  office  of  wit  is  only  to  lighten  the 
serious  labors  of  life ;  that  it  is  only  a  torch,  by  which 
men  may  cheer  the  gloom  of  a  dark  way.     When  it  sets 


PORTRAIT   GALLERY.  77 

up  to  be  your  counsellor  or  your  guide,  it  is  the  fool's 
fire,  flitting  irregularly,  and  leading  you  into  the  quag  or 
morass.  The  great  dramatist  represents  a  witty  sprite 
to  have  put  an  ass's  head  upon  a  man's  shoulders  ;  be- 
ware that  you  do  not  let  this  mischievous  sprite  put  an 
ape's  head  upon  yours. 

If  God  has  not  given  you  this  quicksilver,  no  art  can 
make  it ;  nor  need  you  regret  it.  The  stone,  the  wood, 
and  the  iron  are  a  thousand  times  more  valuable  to 
society  than  pearls  and  diamonds  and  rare  gems ;  and 
sterling  sense  and  industry  and  integrity  are  better  a 
thousand  times,  in  the  hard  Avork  of  living,  than  the 
brilliance  of  wit. 

II.  There  is  a  character  which  I  shall  describe  as  the 
Humorist.  I  do  not  employ  the  term  to  designate  one 
who  indulges  in  that  pleasantest  of  all  wit,  latent  wit ; 
but  to  describe  a  creature  who  conceals  a  coarse  animal- 
ism under  a  brilliant,  jovial  exterior.  The  dangerous 
humorist  is  of  a  plump  condition,  evincing  the  excel- 
lent digestion  of  a  good  eater,  and  answering  very  w^ell 
to  the  Psalmist's  description :  His  eyes  stand  out  u'itJi 
fatness;  he  is  not  in  trouble  as  other  men  are;  he  has 
more  than  heart  could  ivish,  and  his  tongue  vjalkcth 
through  the  earth.  Whatever  is  pleasant  in  ease,  what- 
ever is  indulgent  in  morals,  whatever  is  solacing  in 
luxury,  —  the  jovial  few,  the  convivial  many,  the  glass, 
the  cards,  the  revel,  and  midnight  uproar,  —  these  are 
his  delights.  His  manners  are  easy  and  agreeable ;  his 
face  redolent  of  fun  and  good-nature  ;  his  whole  air  that 
of  a  man  fond  of  the  utmost  possible  bodily  refresh- 
ment. Withal,  he  is  sufficiently  circumspect  and  secre- 
tive of  his  course  to  maintain  a  place  in  genteel  society ; 


78  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG  MEN. 

for  that  is  a  luxury.  He  is  not  a  glutton,  but  a  choice 
eater.  He  is  not  a  gross  drinker,  only  a  gentlemanly 
consumer  of  every  curious  compound  of  liquor.  He 
lias  traveled ;  he  can  tell  you  which,  in  every  city,  is 
the  best  bar,  the  best  restaurateur,  the  best  stable.  He 
knows  every  theater,  each  actor ;  particularly  is  he 
versed  in  tlie  select  morsels  of  the  scandalous  indul- 
gence peculiar  to  each.  He  knows  every  race-course, 
every  nag,  the  history  of  all  the  famous  matches,  and 
the  pedigree  of  every  distinguished  horse.  The  whole 
vocabulary  of  pleasure  is  vernacular,  —  its  wit,  its  slang, 
its  watchwords,  and  black-letter  literature.  He  is  a  pro- 
found annalist  of  scandal ;  every  stream  of  news,  clear 
or  muddy,  disembogues  into  the  gulf  of  his  prodigious 
memory.  He  can  tell  you,  after  living  but  a  week  in  a 
city,  who  gambles,  when,  for  what  sums,  and  with  what 
fate  ;  who  is  impure ;  who  was,  who  is  suspected ;  who 
is  not  suspected,  but  ought  to  be.  He  is  a  morbid 
anatomist  of  morals;  a  brilliant  flesh-fly,  unerring  to 
detect  taint. 

Like  other  men,  he  loves  admiration,  and  desires  to 
extend  his  influence.  All  these  manifold  accomplish- 
ments are  exhibited  before  the  callow  young.  That  he 
may  secure  a  train  of  useful  followers,  he  is  profuse  of 
money ;  and  moves  among  them  with  an  easy,  insinu- 
ating frankness,  a  never-ceasing  gayety,  so  spicy  with 
fun,  so  diverting  with  stories,  so  full  of  little  hits,  sly  in- 
nuendoes, or  solemn  wit,  witli  now  and  then  a  rare  touch 
of  dexterous  mimicry,  and  the  whole  so  pervaded  by 
the  indescribable  flavor,  the  changing  hues  of  humor,  — 
that  the  young  are  bewildered  with  idolatrous  admira- 
tion.    What  gay  young  man,  who  is  old  enough  to  ad- 


PORTRAIT   GALLERY.  79 

mire  himself  and  be  ashamed  of  his  parents,  can  resist 
a  man  so  bedewed  with  humor,  narrating  exquisite 
stories  with  such  mock  gravity,  with  such  slyness  of 
mouth  and  twinkling  of  the  eye,  wdth  such  grotesque 
attitudes  and  significant  gestures  ?  He  is  declared  to 
be  the  most  remarkable  man  in  the  world.  Xow  take 
off  this  man's  dress,  put  out  tlie  one  faculty  of  mirth- 
fulness,  and  he  will  stand  disclosed  without  a  single 
positive  virtue.  With  strong  appetites  deeply  indulged, 
hovering  perpetually  upon  the  twilight  edge  of  every 
vice,  and  whose  wickedness  is  only  not  apparent  be- 
cause it  is  garnished  with  flowers  and  garlands ;  who  is 
not  despised,  only  because  his  various  news,  artfully 
told,  keeps  us  in  good-humor  with  ourselves.  At  one 
period  of  youthful  life,  this  creature's  influence  sup- 
plants that  of  every  other  man.  There  is  an  absolute 
fascination  in  him  which  awakens  a  craving  in  the  mind 
to  be  of  his  circle  ;  plain  duties  become  drudgery,  home 
has  no  light ;  life  at  its  ordinary  key  is  monotonous, 
and  must  be  screwed  up  to  the  concert  pitch  of  this 
wonderful  genius  1  As  he  tells  his  stories,  so,  with  a 
wretched  grimace  of  imitation,  apprentices  will  try  to 
tell  them ;  as  he  gracefully  swings  through  the  street, 
they  will  roU ;  they  will  leer  because  he  stares  gen- 
teelly ;  he  sips,  they  guzzle,  —  and  talk  impudently, 
because  he  talks  with  easy  confidence.  He  walks  erect, 
they  strut ;  he  lounges,  they  loll ;  he  is  less  than  a  man, 
and  they  become  even  less  than  he.  Copper  rings, 
huge  blotches  of  breastpins,  wild  streaming  handker- 
chiefs, jaunty  hats,  odd  clothes,  superfluous  Avalking- 
sticks,  ill-uttered  oaths,  stupid  jokes,  and  blundering 
pleasantries,  —  these  are  the  first-fruits  of  imitation ! 


80  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG  MEN. 

There  are  various  grades  of  it,  from  tlie  office,  store, 
shop,  street,  clear  clown  to  the  hostlery  and  stable. 
Our  cities  are  filled  with  these  juvenile  nondescript 
monsters,  these  compounds  of  vice,  low^  wit,  and  vul- 
garity. The  original  is  morally  detestable,  and  the 
counterfeit  is  a  very  base  imitation  of  a  very  base 
thing,  the  dark  shadow  of  a  very  ugly  substance. 

III.  The  Cynic.  The  cynic  is  one  who  never  sees 
a  good  quality  in  a  man,  and  never  fails  to  see  a  bad 
one.  He  is  the  human  owl,  vigilant  in  darkness  and 
blind  to  light,  mousing  for  vermin,  and  never  seeing 
noble  game.  The  cynic  puts  all  human  actions  into 
only  two  classes,  —  openly  bad,  and  secretly  bad.  All 
virtue  and  generosity  and  disinterestedness  are  merely 
the  cqopeaTance  of  good,  but  selfish  at  the  bottom.  He 
holds  that  no  man  does  a  good  thing  except  for  profit. 
The  effect  of  his  conversation  upon  your  feelings  is  to 
chill  and  sear  them,  to  send  you  aw^ay  sore  and  morose. 
His  criticisms  and  innuendoes  fall  indiscriminately  upon 
every  lovely  thing,  like  frost  upon  flow^ers.  If  a  man  is 
said  to  be  pure  and  chaste,  he  will  answer.  Yes,  in  the 
daytime.  If  a  w^oman  is  pronounced  virtuous,  he  will 
reply.  Yes,  as  yet.  Mr.  A  is  a  religious  man :  Yes,  on 
Sundays.  Mr.  B  has  just  joined  the  church  :  Certainly ; 
the  elections  are  coming  on.  The  minister  of  the  gosjoel 
is  called  an  example  of  diligence  :  It  is  Ids  trade.  Such 
a  man  is  generous  :  Of  other  men's  money.  This  man  is 
obliging:  To  hdl  sitsjneion  and  cheat  you.  That  man  is 
upright :  Because  lie  is  green.  Thus  his  eye  strains  out 
every  good  quality  and  takes  in  only  the  bad.  To  him 
religion  is  liypocrisy,  honesty  a  preparation  for  fraud, 
virtue  only  w^ant  of  opportunity,  and  undeniable  purity. 


PORTRAIT    GALLERY.  81 

asceticism.  The  livelong  day  he  will  coolly  sit  with 
sneering  lip,  uttering  sharp  speeches  in  the  quietest 
manner  and  in  polished  phrase,  transfixing  every  char- 
acter which  is  presented :  His  vjords  arc  softer  than  oil, 
yet  are  they  drawn  swords. 

All  this,  to  the  young,  seems  a  wonderful  knowledge 
of  human  nature ;  they  honor  a  man  who  appears  to 
have  found  out  mankind.  Tliey  begin  to  indulge  them- 
selves in  flippant  sneers ;  and  with  supercilious  brow, 
and  impudent  'tongue  wagging  to  an  empty  brain,  call 
to  naught  the  wise,  the  long  tried,  and  the  venerable. 

I  do  believe  that  man  is  corrupt  enough ;  but  some- 
thing of  good  has  survived  his  wreck,  something  of 
evil  religion  has  restrained,  and  something  partially 
restored  ;  yet  I  look  upon  the  human  heart  as  a  moun- 
tain of  fire.  I  dread  its  crater.  I  tremble  when  I 
see  its  lava  roll  the  fiery  stream.  Therefore  I  am  the 
more  glad,  if  upon  the  old  crust  of  past  eruptions  I 
can  find  a  single  flower  springing  up.  So  far  from 
rejecting  appearances  of  virtue  in  the  corrupt  heart  of 
a  depraved  race,  I  am  eager  to  see  their  light  as  ever 
mariner  was  to  see  a  star  in  a  stormy  night. 

Moss  will  grow  upon  gravestones ;  the  ivy  will  cling 
to  the  mouldering  pile ;  the  mistletoe  springs  from  the 
dying  branch ;  and,  God  be  praised,  something  green, 
something  fair  to  the  sight  and  grateful  to  the  heart, 
will  yet  twine  around  and  grow  out  of  the  seams  and 
cracks  of  the  desolate  temple  of  the  human  heart ! 

Wlio  could  walk  through  Thebes,  Palmyra,  or  Petra^a, 
and  survey  the  wide  waste  of  broken  arches,  crumbled 
altars,  fallen  pillars,  effaced  cornices,  toppling  walls,  and 
crushed  statues,  with  no  feelings  but  those  of  contempt  ? 

4  *  F 


82  LECTUHES   TO   YOUNG   MEN. 

"Wlio,  unsorrowing,  could  see  the  stork's  nest  upon  the 
carved  pillar,  satyrs  dancing  on  marble  pavements,  and 
scorpions  nestling  where  beauty  once  dwelt,  and  dragons 
the  sole  tenants  of  royal  palaces  ?  Amid  such  melan- 
choly magnificence,  even  the  misanthrope  might  weep  ! 
If  here  and  there  an  altar  stood  unbruised,  or  a  graven 
column  unblemished,  or  a  statue  nearly  perfect,  he  might 
\vell  feel  love  for  a  man-wrought  stone,  so  beautiful, 
when  all  else  is  so  dreary  and  desolate.  Thus,  tliough 
man  is  as  a  desolate  city,  and  his  passions  are  as  the 
wild  beasts  of  the  wilderness  howling  in  kings'  palaces, 
yet  he  is  God's  workmanship,  and  a  thousand  touches 
of  exquisite  beauty  remain.  Since  Christ  hath  put  his 
sovereign  hand  to  restore  man's  ruin,  many  points  are 
remoulded,  and  the  fair  form  of  a  new  fabric  already 
appears  growing  from  the  ruins,  and  the  first  faint  flame 
is  glimmering  upon  the  restored  altar. 

It  is  impossible  to  indulge  in  such  habitual  severity 
of  opinion  upon  our  fellow-men  without  injuring  the 
tenderness  and  delicacy  of  our  own  feelings.  A  man 
will  he  what  his  most  cherished  feelings  are.  If  he  en- 
courage a  noble  generosity,  every  feeling  will  be  enriched 
by  it ;  if  he  nurse  bitter  and  envenomed  thoughts,  his 
own  spirit  will  absorb  the  poison ;  and  he  will  crawl 
among  men  as  a  burnished  adder,  whose  life  is  mischief 
and  whose  errand  is  death. 

Although  experience  should  correct  the  indiscriminate 
confidence  of  the  young,  no  experience  should  render 
them  callous  to  goodness,  wherever  seen.  He  who  hunts 
for  flowers  will  find  flowers ;  and  he  who  loves  weeds 
may  find  weeds.  Let  it  be  remembered  that  no  man, 
who  is  not  himself  mortally  diseased,  will  have  a  relish 


PORTRAIT   GALLERY.  83 

for  disease  in  others.  A  swollen  TVTetcli,  blotched  all  over 
with  leprosy,  may  grin  hideously  at  every  wart  or  excres- 
cence upon  beauty.  A  wholesome  man  will  be  pained 
at  it,  and  seek  not  to  notice  it.  Eeject,  then,  the  morbid 
ambition  of  the  cynic,  or  cease  to  call  yourself  a  man  ! 

TV.  I  fear  that  few  villages  exist  without  a  specimen 
of  the  Libertine. 

His  errand  into  this  world  is  to  explore  every  depth 
of  sensuality,  and  collect  upon  himself  the  foulness  of 
every  one.  He  is  proud  to  be  vile ;  his  ambition  is  to 
be  viler  than  other  men.  Were  we  not  confronted  almost 
daily  by  such  wretches,  it  would  be  hard  to  believe  that 
any  could  exist  to  whom  purity  and  decency  were  a  bur- 
den, and  only  corruption  a  delight.  This  creature  has 
changed  his  nature,  until  only  that  which  disgusts  a 
pure  mind  pleases  his.  He  is  lured  by  the  scent  of 
carrion.  His  coarse  feelings,  stimulated  by  gross  excit- 
ants, are  insensible  to  delicacy.  The  exquisite  bloom, 
the  dew  and  freshness  of  the  flowers  of  the  heart  which 
delight  both  good  men  and  God  himself,  he  gazes  upon 
as  a  Behemoth  would  gaze  enraptured  upon  a  prairie  of 
flowers.  It  is  so  much  pasture.  The  forms,  the  odors, 
the  hues,  are  only  a  mouthful  for  his  terrible  appetite. 
Therefore  his  breath  blights  every  innocent  thing.  He 
sneers  at  the  mention  of  purity,  and  leers  in  the  very 
face  of  Virtue,  as  though  she  were  herself  corrupt,  if 
the  truth  were  known.  He  assures  the  credulous  dis- 
ciple that  there  is  no  purity ;  that  its  appearances  are 
only  the  veils  which  cover  indulgence.  Nay,  he  solicits 
praise  for  the  very  openness  of  liis  evil ;  and  tells  the 
listener  tliat  all  act  as  he  acts,  but  only  few  are  cour- 
ageous enough  to  own  it.     But  the  uttermost  parts  of 


84  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG   MEN. 

depravity  are  laid  open  only  when  several  such  monsters 
meet  together,  and  vie  with  each  other,  as  we  might 
suppose  shapeless  mud-monsters  disport  in  the  slimiest 
ooze  of  the  ocean.  They  di^-e  in  fierce  rivalry  which  shall 
reach  the  most  infernal  depth  and  bring  up  the  blackest 
sediment.  It  makes  the  blood  of  an  honest  man  run 
cold,  to  hear  but  the  echo  of  the  shameless  rehearsals 
of  tlieir  salacious  enterprises.  Each  strives  to  tell  a 
blacker  tale  than  the  other.  AMien  the  al)omination  of 
their  actual  life  is  not  damnable  enough  to  satisfy  the 
ambition  of  their  unutterable  corruption,  they  devise,  in 
their  imagination,  scenes  yet  more  flagrant ;  swear  that 
they  have  performed  them,  and,  when  they  separate, 
each  strives  to  make  his  lying  boastings  true.  It  would 
seem  as  if  miscreants  so  loathsome  would  have  no  power 
of  temptation  upon  the  young.  Experience  shows  tliat 
the  worst  men  are,  often,  the  most  skillful  in  touching 
the  springs  of  human  action.  A  young  man  knows 
little  of  life,  less  of  himself.  He  feels  in  his  bosom 
the  various  impulses,  wild  desires,  restless  cravings  he 
can  hardly  tell  for  what,  a  sombre  melancholy  when  all 
is  gay,  a  violent  exhilaration  when  others  are  sober. 
These  wild  gushes  of  feeling,  peculiar  to  youth,  the 
sagacious  tempter  has  felt,  has  studied,  has  practised 
upon,  until  he  can  sit  before  that  most  capacious  organ, 
tlie  human  mind,  knowing  every  stop,  and  all  the  com- 
binations, and  competent  to  touch  any  note  through  the 
diapason.  As  a  serpent  deceived  the  purest  of  mortals, 
so  now  a  beast  may  mislead  their  posterity.  He  begins 
afar  off.  He  decries  the  virtue  of  all  men ;  studies  to 
produce  a  doubt  that  any  are  under  self-restraint.  He 
unpacks  his  filthy  stories,  plays  off  the  fireworks  of  his 


PORTRAIT    GALLERY.  85 

corrupt  imagination,  —  its  blue-liglits,  its  red-liglits,  and 
green-liglits,  and  sparkle-spitting  lights,  — and  edging  in 
upon  the  yielding  youth,  who  begins  to  wonder  at  his 
experience,  he  boasts  his  first  exploits,  he  hisses  at  the 
purity  of  women ;  he  grows  yet  bolder,  tells  more 
wicked  deeds,  and  invents  worse  even  than  he  ever  per- 
formed, though  he  has  performed  worse  than  good  men 
ever  thought  of.  All  thoughts,  all  feelings,  all  ambition, 
are  merc^ed  in  one,  and  that  the  lowest,  vilest,  most  de- 
testable  ambition. 

Had  I  a  son  of  years,  I  could,  with  thanksgiving,  see 
him  go  down  to  the  graA^e,  rather  than  fall  into  the  maw 
of  this  most  besotted  devil.  The  plague  is  mercy,  the 
cholera  is  love,  the  deadliest  fever  is  refreshment  to 
man's  body,  in  comparison  with  this  epitome  and  essence 
of  moral  disease.  He  lives  among  men,  hell's  ambas- 
sador with  full  credentials  ;  nor  can  we  conceive  that 
there  should  be  need  of  any  other  fiend  to  perfect  the 
works  of  darkness,  while  he  carries  his  body  among  us, 
stuffed  with  every  pestilent  drug  of  corruption.  The 
heart  of  every  virtuous  young  man  should  loathe  him ; 
if  he  speaks,  you  should  as  soon  hear  a  wolf  bark. 
Gather  around  you  the  venomous  snake,  the  poisonous 
toad,  the  fetid  vulture,  the  prowling  hyena,  and  their 
company  would  be  an  honor  to  you  above  his  ;  for  they 
at  least  remain  within  their  own  nature ;  but  he  goes 
out  of  his  nature  that  he  may  become  more  vile  than 
it  is  possible  for  a  mere  animal  to  be. 

He  is  hateful  to  religion,  hateful  to  virtue,  hateful  to 
decency,  hateful  to  the  coldest  morality.  The  stench ful 
ichor  of  his  dissolved  heart  has  flowed  over  every  feel- 
ing of  his  nature,  and  left  them  as  the  burning  lava 


86  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG  MEN. 

leaves  the  garden,  the  orchard,  and  the  vineyard.  And 
it  is  a  wonder  that  the  bolt  of  God  which  crushed  Sodom 
does  not  slay  him.  It  is  a  wonder  that  the  earth  does 
not  refuse  the  burden,  and  open  and  swallow  him  up. 
I  do  not  fear  that  the  young  will  be  undermined  by 
his  di7rct  assaults.  But  so7ne  will  imitate,  and  their 
example  will  be  again  freely  imitated,  and,  finally,  a 
remote  circle  of  disciples  will  spread  the  diluted  con- 
tagion among  the  virtuous.  This  man  will  be  the  foun- 
tain-head, and  though  none  will  come  to  drink  at  a  hot 
spring,  yet  farther  down  along  the  stream  it  sends  out 
will  be  found  many  scooping  from  its  waters. 

V.  I  have  described  the  Devil  in  his  native  form,  but 
he  sometimes  appears  as  an  angel  of  light.  There  is  a 
polished  libertine,  in  manners  studiously  refined,  in  taste 
faultless  ;  his  face  is  mild  and  engaging  ;  his  words  drop 
as  pure  as  newly  made  honey.  In  general  society  he 
would  rather  attract  regard  as  a  model  of  purity,  and 
Suspicion  herself  could  hardly  look  askance  upon  him. 
Under  this  brilliant  exterior,  his  heart  is  like  a  sepul- 
cher,  full  of  all  un cleanness.  Contrasted  with  the  gross 
libertine,  it  would  not  be  supposed  that  he  had  a  thought 
in  common  with  him.  If  his  heart  could  be  opened  to 
our  eyes,  as  it  is  to  God's,  we  should  perceive  scarcely 
dissimilar  feeling  in  respect  to  appetite.  Professing 
unbounded  admiration  of  virtue  in  general,  he  leaves 
not  in  private  a  point  untransgressed.  His  reading  has 
culled  every  glowing  picture  of  amorous  poets,  every 
tempting  scene  of  loose  dramatists  and  looser  novelists. 
Enriched  by  these,  his  imagination,  like  a  rank  soil,  is 
overgrown  with  a  prodigal  luxuriance  of  poison  herbs 
and  deadly  flowers.    Men  such  as  this  man  is  frequently 


PORTRAIT   GALLERY.  87 

aspire  to  be  the  censors  of  morality.  They  are  hurt  at 
the  injudicious  reprehensions  of  vice  from  the  pulpit. 
They  make  great  outcry  when  plain  words  are  employed 
to  denounce  base  things.  They  are  astonishingly  sensi- 
tive and  fearful  lest  good  men  should  soil  their  hands 
wdth  too  much  meddling  with  evil.  Their  cries  are  not 
the  evidence  of  sensibility  to  virtue,  but  of  too  lively  a 
sensibility  to  vice.  Sensibility  is,  often,  only  the  flut- 
tering of  an  impure  heart. 

At  the  very  time  that  their  voice  is  ringing  an  alarm 
against  immoral  reformations,  they  are  secretly  skeptical 
of  every  tenet  of  virtue,  and  practically  unfaithful  to 
every  one.  Of  these  two  libertines,  the  most  refined  is 
the  more  dangerous.  The  one  is  a  rattlesnake  which 
carries  its  warning  with  it ;  the  other,  hiding  his  bur- 
nished scales  in  the  grass,  skulks  to  perform  unsuspected 
deeds  in  darkness.  The  one  is  the  visible  fog  and  miasm 
of  the  morass ;  the  other  is  the  serene  air  of  a  tropical 
city,  which,  though  brilliant,  is  loaded  with  invisible 
pestilence. 

The  Politician.  If  there  be  a  man  on  earth  whose 
character  should  be  framed  of  the  most  sterling  honesty, 
and  whose  conduct  should  conform  to  the  most  scrupu- 
lous morality,  it  is  the  man  who  administers  public 
affairs.  The  most  romantic  notions  of  integrity  are 
here  not  extravagant.  As,  under  our  institutions,  pub- 
lic men  will  be,  upon  the  whole,  fair  exponents  of  the 
character  of  their  constituents,  the  plainest  way  to  se- 
cure honest  public  men  is  to  inspire  those  who  make 
them  with  a  riglit  understanding  of  what  political  char- 
acter ought  to  be.  Young  men  should  be  prompted  to 
discriminate  between  the  specious  and  the  real,  the  art- 


88  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG   MEN. 

ful  and  the   honest,   the   wise   and   the  cunning,  the 
patriotic  and  the  pretender.     I  will  sketch  — 

YI.  The  Demagogue.  The  lowest  of  politicians  is 
that  man  who  seeks  to  gratify  an  invariable  selfishness 
by  pretending  to  seek  the  public  good.  For  a  profitable 
popularity  he  accommodates  himself  to  all  opinions,  to 
all  dispositions,  to  every  side,  and  to  each  prejudice. 
He  is  a  mirror,  with  no  face  of  its  own,  but  a  smooth 
surface  from  which  each  man  of  ten  thousand  may  see 
himself  reflected.  He  glides  from  man  to  man,  coincid- 
ing with  their  views,  pretending  their  feelings,  simulat- 
ing their  tastes  :  with  this  one,  he  hates  a  man ;  with 
that  one,  he  loves  the  same  man  ;  he  favors  a  law, 
and  he  dislikes  it ;  he  approves,  and  opposes ;  he  is  on 
both  sides  at  once,  and  seemingly  wishes  that  he  could 
be  on  one  side  more  than  both  sides.  He  attends  meet- 
ings to  suppress  intemperance,  but  at  elections  makes 
every  grog-shop  free  to  all  drinkers.  He  can  with  equal 
relish  plead  most  eloquently  for  temperance,  or  toss  off 
a  dozen  glasses  in  a  dirty  grocery.  He  thinks  that  there 
is  a  time  for  everything,  and  therefore  at  one  time  he 
swears  and  jeers  and  leers  with  a  carousing  crew  ;  and 
at  another  time,  having  happily  been  converted,  he  dis- 
]olays  the  various  features  of  devotion.  Indeed,  he  is  a 
capacious  Christian,  an  epitome  of  faith.  He  piously 
asks  the  class-leader  of  the  w^elfare  of  his  charge,  for  he 
was  always  a  Methodist  and  always  shall  be,  —  until  he 
meets  a  Presbyterian ;  then  he  is  a  Presbyterian,  old 
school  or  new,  as  the  case  requires.  However,  as  he  is 
not  a  bigot,  he  can  afford  to  be  a  Baptist,  in  a  good 
Baptist  neighborhood,  and  with  a  wink  he  tells  the 
zealous  elder  that  he  never  had  one  of  his  children 


PORTRAIT   GALLERY.  89 

baptized,  not  lie  !  He  whispers  to  the  reformer  that  he 
abhors  all  creeds  but  baptism  and  the  Bible.  After  all 
this,  room  will  be  found  in  his  heart  for  the  fugitive 
sects  also,  which  come  and  go  like  clouds  in  a  summer 
sky.  His  flattering  attention  at  church  edifies  the 
simple-hearted  preacher,  who  admires  that  a  plain  ser- 
mon should  make  a  man  whisper  Amen,  and  weep. 
Upon  the  stump  his  tact  is  no  less  rare.  He  roars  and 
bawls  with  courageous  plainness  on  points  about  wdiich 
all  agree ;  but  on  subjects  where  men  differ  his  meaning 
is  nicely  balanced  on  a  pivot,  that  it  may  dip  either  way. 
He  depends  for  success  chiefly  upon  humorous  stories. 
A  glowing  patriot  a  telling  stories  is  a  dangerous  antag- 
onist ;  for  it  is  hard  to  expose  the  fallacy  of  a  hearty 
laugh,  and  men  convulsed  with  merriment  are  slow  to 
perceive  in  what  way  an  argument  is  a  reply  to  a  story. 

Perseverance,  effrontery,  good-nature,  and  versatile 
cunning  have  advanced  many  a  bad  man  higher  than  a 
good  man  could  attain.  Men  will  admit  that  he  has 
not  a  single  moral  virtue  ;  but  he  is  smart.  We  object 
to  no  man  for  amusing  himself  at  the  fertile  resources 
of  the  politician  here  painted ;  for  sober  men  are  some- 
times pleased  with  the  grimaces  and  mischievous  tricks 
of  a  versatile  monkey  ;  but  would  it  not  be  strange  in- 
deed if  they  should  select  him  for  a  ruler,  or  make  him 
an  exemplar  to  their  sons  ? 

VII.  I  describe  next  a  more  respectable  and  more 
dangerous  politician,  —  the  Party  Man.  He  has  asso- 
ciated his  ambition,  his  interests,  and  his  affections  with 
a  party.  He  prefers,  doubtless,  that  his  side  should  be 
victorious  by  the  best  means,  and  under  the  champion- 
ship of  good  men  ;  but  rather  than  lose  the  victory,  he 


i 


90  LECTURES   TO   YOUXG   MEN. 

"svill  consent  to  any  means,  and  follow  any  man.  Thus, 
with  a  general  desire  to  be  upright,  the  exigency  of  his 
party  constantly  pushes  him  to  dishonorable  deeds. 
He  opposes  fraud  by  craft,  lie  by  lie,  slander  by 
counter-aspersion.  To  be  sure,  it  is  wrong  to  misstate, 
to  distort,  to  suppress  or  color  facts  ;  it  is  wrong  to  em- 
ploy the  evil  passions  ;  to  set  class  against  class,  —  the 
poor  against  tlie  rich,  the  country  against  the  city,  the 
farmer  against  the  mechanic,  one  section  against  another 
section.  But  his  opponents  do  it,  and  if  they  will  take 
advantage  of  men's  corruption,  he  must,  or  lose  by  his 
virtue.  He  gradually  adopts  two  characters,  a  personal 
and  a  political  character.  All  the  requisitions  of  his 
conscience  he  obeys  in  his  private  character ;  all  the 
requisitions  of  his  party  he  obeys  in  his  political  con- 
duct. In  one  character  he  is  a  man  of  principle ;  in 
the  other,  a  man  of  mere  expedients.  As  a  man  he 
means  to  be  veracious,  honest,  moral ;  as  a  i^olitician, 
he  is  deceitful,  cunning,  unscrupulous,  —  anything  for 
party.  As  a  man,  he  abhors  the  slimy  demagogue  ;  as 
a  politician,  he  employs  him  as  a  scavenger.  As  a  man, 
he  shrinks  from  the  flagitiousness  of  slander ;  as  a  poli- 
tician, he  permits  it,  smiles  upon  it  in  others,  rejoices 
in  the  success  gained  by  it.  As  a  man,  he  respects  no 
one  who  is  rotten  in  heart ;  as  a  politician,  no  man 
through  whom  victory  may  be  gained  can  be  too  bad. 
As  a  citizen,  he  is  an  apostle  of  temperance ;  as  a  poli- 
tician, he  puts  his  shoulder  under  the  men  who  deluge 
tlieir  track  with  whiskey,  marching  a  crew  of  brawling 
patriots,  pugnaciously  drunk,  to  exercise  the  freeman's 
noblest  franchise,  the  vote.  As  a  citizen,  he  is  con- 
siderate of  the  young,  and  counsels  them  with  admirable 


POrtTllAIT   GxVLLERY.  91 

wisdom ;  then,  as  a  politician,  lie  votes  for  tools,  sup- 
porting for  the  magistracy  worshipful  aspirants  scraped 
from  the  ditch,  the  grog-shop,  and  the  brothel ;  thus 
saying  by  deeds,  which  the  young  are  quick  to  under- 
stand, "  I  jested,  when  I  warned  you  of  bad  company ; 
for  you  perceive  none  worse  than  those  whom  I  delight 
to  honor."  For  his  religion  he  will  give  up  all  his  sec- 
ular interests  ;  but  for  his  politics  he  gives  up  even  his 
religion.  He  adores  virtue,  and  rewards  vice.  Whilst 
bolstering  up  unrighteous  measures,  and  more  unright- 
eous men,  he  prays  for  the  advancement  of  religion 
and  justice  and  lienor !  I  would  to  God  that  his 
prayer  might  be  answered  upon  his  own  political  head ; 
for  never  was  there  a  place  where  such  blessings  were 
more  needed  !  I  am  puzzled  to  know  what  will  happen 
at  death  to  this  politic  Christian,  but  most  unchristian 
politician.  Will  both  of  his  characters  go  heavenward 
together  ?  If  the  strongest  prevails,  he  will  certainly 
go  to  hell.  If  his  weakest  (which  is  his  Christian 
character)  is  saved,  what  will  become  of  his  political 
character  ?  Shall  he  be  sundered  in  two,  as  Solomon 
proposed  to  divide  the  contested  infant  ?  If  this  style 
of  character  were  not  flagitiously  ^vicked,  it  would  still 
be  supremely  ridiculous  ;  but  it  is  both.  Let  young 
men  mark  tliese  amphibious  exemplars  to  avoid  their 
influence.  The  young  have  nothing  to  gain  from  those 
who  are  saints  in  religion  and  morals,  and  Machiavels 
in  politics  ;  who  have  partitioned  off  their  heart,  invited 
Christ  into  one  half  and  Belial  into  the  other. 

It  is  wisely  said  that  a  strictly  honest  man  who  de- 
sires purely  the  public  good,  who  will  not  criminally 
flatter  the  people,  nor  take  part  in  lies  or  party  slander. 


92  LECTURES   TO   YOUXG  MEN. 

nor  desceud  to  the  arts  of  the  rat,  the  weasel,  and  the 
fox,  cannot  succeed  in  politics.  It  is  calmly  said  by 
thousands  that  one  cannot  be  a  politician  and  a  Chris- 
tian. Indeed,  a  man  is  liable  to  downright  ridicule  if 
he  ^eaks  in  good  earnest  of  a  scrupulously  honest  and 
religiously  moral  politician.  I  regard  all  such  represen- 
tations as  false.  We  are  not  without  men  whose  career 
is  a  refutation  of  the  slander.  It  poisons  the  com- 
munity to  teach  this  fatal  necessity  of  corruption  in  a 
course  which  so  many  must  pursue.  It  is  not  strange, 
if  such  be  the  popular  opinion,  that  young  men  include 
the  sacrifice  of  strict  integrity  as  a  necessary  element  of 
a  j3olitical  life,  and  calmly  agree  to  it,  as  to  an  inevitable 
misfortune,  rather  than  to  a  dark  and  voluntary  crime. 

Only  if  a  man  is  an  ignorant  heathen,  can  he  escape 
blame  for  such  a  decision  !  A  young  man,  at  this  day, 
in  this  land,  who  can  coolly  purpose  a  life  of  most  un- 
manly guile,  who  means  to  earn  his  bread  and  fame  by 
a  sacrifice  of  integrity,  is  one  who  requires  only  tempta- 
tion and  opportunity  to  become  a  felon.  What  a  heart 
has  that  man  who  can  stand  in  the  very  middle  of  the 
Biljle,  with  its  transcendent  truths  raising  their  glowing 
fronts  on  every  side  of  him,  and  feel  no  inspiration  but 
that  of  immorality  and  meanness  !  He  knows  that  for 
him  have  been  founded  the  perpetual  institutions  of 
religion ;  for  him  prophets  have  spoken,  miracles  been 
WTOui^ht,  heaven  robbed  of  its  Maij^istrate,  and  the  earth 
made  sacred  above  all  })lanets  as  the  Eedeemer's  burial- 
place  ;  —  he  knows  it  all,  and  plunges  from  this  height 
to  the  very  bottom  of  corruption  !  He  hears  that  he  is 
immortal,  and  despises  the  immortality ;  that  he  is  a 
son  of  God,  and  scorns  the  dignity ;  an  heir  of  heaven, 


PORTRAIT   GALLERY.  93 

and  infamously  sells  liis  heirsliip  and  himself,  for  a  con- 
temptible mess  of  loathsome  pottage  !  Do  not  tell  me 
of  any  excuses.  It  is  a  shame  to  attempt  an  excuse ! 
If  there  were  no  religion,  if  that  vast  sphere,  out  of 
which  glow  all  the  supereminent  truths  of  the  Bible, 
was  a  mere  emptiness  and  void,  yet,  methinks,  the  very 
idea  of  fatherland,  the  exceeding  preciousness  of  the 
laws  and  liberties  of  a  great  people,  would  enkindle 
such  a  high  and  noble  enthusiasm,  that  all  baser  feel- 
ings would  be  consumed  !  But  if  the  love  of  country, 
a  sense  of  character,  a  manly  regard  for  integrity,  the 
example  of  our  most  illustrious  men,  the  warnings  of 
religion  and  all  its  solicitations,  and  the  prospect  of  the 
future,- — dark  as  perdition  to  the  bad,  and  light  as 
paradise  to  the  good,  —  cannot  inspire  a  young  man  to 
anything  higher  than  a  sneaking,  truckling,  dodging 
scramble  for  fraudulent  fame  and  dishonest  bread,  it  is 
because  such  a  creature  has  never  felt  one  sensation  of 
manly  virtue ;  it  is  because  his  heart  is  a  howling  wil- 
derness, inhospitable  to  innocence. 

Thus  have  I  sketched  a  few  of  the  characters  which 
abound  in  every  community ;  dangerous,  not  more  by 
their  direct  temptations  than  by  their  insensible  influ- 
ence. Tlie  sight  of  their  deeds,  of  their  temporary  suc- 
cess, their  apparent  happiness,  relaxes  the  tense  rigidity 
of  a  scrupulous  honesty,  inspires  a  ruinous  liberality  of 
sentiment  toward  vice,  and  breeds  the  thouglUs  of  evil ; 
and  EVIL  THOUGHTS  are  the  cockatrice's  eggs,  hatching 
into  all  bad  deeds. 

Eemember,  if  by  any  of  these  you  are  enticed  to 
ruin,  you  will  have  to  bear  it  alone  !     Tliey  are  strong 


94  LECTUKES   TO   YOUXG   MEN. 

to  seduce,  but  heartless  to  sustain  their  victims.  They 
will  exhaust  your  means,  teach  you  to  desj^ise  the  God 
of  your  fathers,  lead  you  into  every  sin,  go  with  you 
while  you  afford  them  any  pleasure  or  profit,  and  then, 
when  the  inevitable  disaster  of  wickedness  begins  to 
overwhelm  you,  they  will  abandon  whom  they  have  de- 
bauched. When,  at  length,  death  gnaws  at  your  bones 
and  knocks  at  your  heart ;  when  staggering  and  worn 
out,  your  courage  wasted,  your  hope  gone,  your  purity, 
and  long,  long  ago  your  peace,  —  will  he  who  first  en- 
ticed your  steps  now  serve  your  extremity  with  one 
office  of  kindness  ?  Will  he  stay  your  head,  cheer  your 
dying  agony  with  one  word  of  hope,  or  light  the  way  for 
your  coward  steps  to  the  grave,  or  weep  when  you  are 
gone,  or  send  one  pitiful  scrap  to  your  desolate  family  ? 
What  reveler  wears  crape  for  a  dead  drunkard  ?  What 
gang  of  gamblers  ever  intermitted  a  game  for  the  death 
of  a  companion,  or  went  on  kind  missions  of  relief  to 
broken-down  fellow-gamblers  ?  What  harlot  weeps  for 
a  harlot  ?  What  debauchee  mourns  for  a  debauchee  ? 
They  would  carouse  at  your  funeral,  and  gamble  on  your 
coffin.  If  one  flush  more  of  pleasure  were  to  be  liad 
by  it,  they  would  drink  shame  and  ridicule  to  your 
memory  out  of  your  ow^n  skull,  and  roar  in  bacchanal 
revelry  over  your  damnation  !  All  the  shameless  atro- 
cities of  wicked  men  are  nothing  to  their  licartlcssncss 
toward  each  other  when  broken  down.  As  I  have  seen 
worms  writhing  on  a  carcass,  overcrawling  each  other, 
and  elevating  their  fiery  heads  in  petty  ferocity  against 
each  otlier,  while  all  were  enshrined  in  the  corruption 
of  a  common  carrion,  I  have  thought,  all !  shameful 
picture  of  wicked  men  tempting  each  other,  abetting  each 


PORTRAIT   GALLERY.  95 

other,  until  calamity  overtook  tliem,  and  then  fighting 
and  devouring  or  abandoning  each  other,  without  pity 
or  sorrow  or  compassion  or  remorse.  Evil  men  of 
every  degree  will  use  you,  flatter  you,  lead  you  on  until 
you  are  useless ;  then,  if  the  virtuous  do  not  pity  you, 
or  God  compassionate,  you  are  without  a  friend  in  the 
universe. 

My  son,  if  sinners  entice  thee,  consent  thou  not.  If 
tliey  say,  Come  with  us,  ....  we  shall  find  all  precious 
substance,  we  shall  fill  our  houses  with  spoil ;  cast  in  thy 
lot  among  us  ;  let  us  all  have  one  purse :  my  son,  walk 
not  thou  in  the  %vay  with  them  ;  refrain  thy  feet  from 
their  path  :  for  their  feet  mm  to  evil,  and  make  haste  to 
shed  hlood,  ....  a7id  they  lay  in  wait  for  their  OWN 
hlood,  they  lurk  p>rivily  for  their  own  lives. 


GAMBLERS    AND    GAMBLING. 


Then  the  soldiers,  when  they  had  cRrciFiED  Jesus,  took  his 

GARMENTS  AND  MADE  FOUR  PARTS,  TO  EVERY  SOLDIER  A  PART, 
AND  ALSO  HIS  COAT.  NoW  THE  COAT  WAS  WITHOUT  SEAM,  WOVEN 
FROM  THE  TOP  THROUGHOUT.  ThEY  SAID  THEREFORE  AMONG 
THEMSELVES,  LeT  US  NOT  REND  IT,  BUT  CAST  LOTS  FOR  IT,  WHOSE 
IT  SHALL  BE.       ThESE  THINGS  THEREFORE  THE  SOLDIERS  DID." 

HAYE  condensed  into  one  account  the  sep- 
arate parts  of  this  gambling  transaction  as 
narrated  by  each  Evangelist.  How  marked 
in  every  age  is  a  gambler's  character !  The 
enraged  priesthood  of  ferocious  sects  taunted  Christ's 
d3ring  agonies  ;  the  bewildered  multitude,  accustomed 
to  cruelty,  could  shout ;  but  no  earthly  creature,  but  a 
gambler,  could  "be  so  lost  to  all  feeling  as  to  sit  down 
coolly  under  a  dying  man  to  wrangle  for  his  garments, 
and  arbitrate  their  avaricious  differences  by  casting  dice 
for  his  tunic,  with  hands  spotted  with  his  spattered 
blood,  warm  and  yet  undried  upon  them.  The  descend- 
ants of  these  patriarchs  of  gambling,  however,  have 
taught  us  that  there  is  nothing  possible  to  hell,  uncon- 
genial to  these,  its  elect  saints.  In  this  lecture  it  is  my 
disagreeable  task  to  lead  your  steps  down  the  dark  path 
to  their  cruel  haunts,  there  to  exhibit  their  infernal  pas- 
sions, their  awful  ruin,  and  their  ghastly  memorials.    In 


GAMBLERS   AND    GAMBLING.  97 

this  house  of  darkness,  amid  fierce  faces  gleaming  with 
the  fire  of  fiercer  hearts,  amid  oaths  and  groans  and 
fiendish  orgies,  ending  in  murders  and  strewn  Avith 
sweltering  corpses,  —  do  not  mistake,  and  suppose 
yourself  in  hell,  —  you  are  only  in  its  precincts  and 
vestibule. 

Gambling  is  the  staking  or  winning  of  property  upon 
mere  hazard.  The  husbandman  renders  produce  for  his 
gains  ;  the  mechanic  renders  the  product  of  labor  and 
skill  for  his  gains ;  the  gambler  renders  for  his  gain  the 
sleights  of  useless  skill,  or,  more  often,  downright  cheat- 
ing. Betting  is  gambling ;  there  is  no  honest  equiva- 
lent to  its  gains.  Dealings  in  fancy  stocks  are  often- 
times sheer  gambling,  with  all  its  worst  evils.  Profits 
so  earned  are  no  better  than  the  profits  of  dice,  cards,- or 
hazard.  AMien  skill  returns  for  its  earniuGfs  a  useful 
service,  as  knoAvledge,  beneficial  amusements,  or  profit- 
able labor,  it  is  honest  commerce.  The  skill  of  a  pilot 
in  threading  a  narrow  channel,  the  skill  of  a  lawyer  in 
threading  a  still  more  intricate  one,  are  as  substantial 
equivalents  for  a  price  received  as  if  they  w^ere  mer- 
chant goods  or  agricultural  products.  But  all  gains  of 
mere  skill,  which  result  in  no  real  benefit,  are  gambling 
gains. 

Gaming,  as  it  springs  from  a  principle  of  our  nature, 
has,  in  some  form,  probably  existed  in  every  age.  AVe 
trace  it  in  remote  periods  and  among  the  most  barbar- 
ous people.  It  loses  none  of  its  fascinations  among  a 
civilized  people.  On  the  contrary,  tlie  habit  of  fierce 
stimulants,  the  jaded  appetite  of  luxury,  and  the  satiety 
of  wealth  seem  to  invite  the  master  excitant.      Our 

5  G 


98  LECTURES   TO   YOUXG   MEN. 

land,  not  apt  to  be  behind  in  good  or  evil,  is  full  of 
gambling  in  all  its  forms,  —  the  gambling  of  commerce, 
the  gambling  of  bets  and  wagers,  and  the  gambling  of 
games  of  hazard.  There  is  gambling  in  refined  circles, 
and  in  the  lowest ;  among  the  members  of  our  national 
government,  and  of  our  State  governments.  Thief  gam- 
bles with  thief,  in  jail ;  the  judge  who  sent  them  there, 
the  la^vyer  who  prosecuted,  and  the  lawyer  who  de- 
fended them,  often  gamble  too.  This  vice,  once  almost 
universally  prevalent  among  the  Western  bar,  and  still 
too  frequently  disgracing  its  members,  is,  however,  we 
are  happy  to  believe,  decreasing.  In  many  circuits,  not 
long  ago,  and  in  some  now,  the  judge,  the  jury,  and  the 
bar  shuffled  cards  by  night  and  law  by  day,  —  dealing 
out  money  and  justice  alike.  The  clatter  of  dice  and 
cards  disturbs  your  slumber  on  the  boat,  and  rings 
drowsily  from  the  upper  rooms  of  the  hotel.  This  vice 
pervades  the  city,  extends  over  every  line  of  travel,  and 
infests  the  most  moral  districts.  The  secreted  lamp 
dimly  lights  the  apprentices  to  their  game ;  with  unsus- 
pected disobedience,  boys  creep  out  of  their  beds  to  it ; 
it  goes  on  in  the  store  close  by  the  till ;  it  haunts  the 
shop.  The  scoundrel  in  his  lair,  the  scholar  in  his 
room,  the  pirate  on  his  ship,  gay  women  at  parties, 
loafers  in  the  street-corner,  public  functionaries  in  their 
offices,  the  beggar  under  the  hedge,  the  rascal  in  prison, 
and  some  professors  of  religion  in  the  somnolent  hours 
of  the  Sabbath,  waste  their  energies  by  the  ruinous 
excitement  of  the  game.  Besides  these  players,  there 
are  troops  of  professional  gamblers,  troops  of  hangers- 
on,  troops  of  youth  to  be  clravm  in.  An  inexperienced 
eye  would  detect  in  our  peaceful  towns  no  signs  of  this 


GAMBLERS   AND    GAMBLING.  99 

vnltnre  flock ;  so  in  a  sunny  day,  when  all  cheerful 
birds  are  singing  merrily,  not  a  buzzard  can  be  seen  • 
but  let  a  carcass  drop,  and  they  will  push  forth  their 
gaunt  heads  from  their  gloomy  roosts,  and  come  flap- 
ping from  the  dark  woods  to  speck  the  air  and  dot  the 
ground  with  their  numbers. 

The  universal  prevalence  of  this  vice  is  a  reason  for 
parental  vigilance,  and  a  reason  of  remonstrance  from 
the  citizen,  the  parent,  the  minister  of  the  gospel,  the 
patriot,  and  the  press.  I  propose  to  trace  its  opening, 
describe  its  subjects,  and  detail  its  effects, 
r*A.  young  man,  proud  of  freedom,  anxious  to  exert  his 
manhood,  has  tumbled  his  Bible  and  sober  books  and 
letters  of  counsel  into  a  dark  closet.  He  has  learned 
various  accomplishments, —  to  flirt,  to  boast,  to  swear,  to 
fight,  to  drink.  He  has  let  every  one  of  these  chains 
be  put  around  him,  upon  the  solemn  promise  of  Satan 
that  he  would  take  them  off  whenever  he  wished. 
Hearing  of  the  artistic  feats  of  eminent  gamblers,  he 
emulates  them.  So  he  ponders  the  game.  He  teaches 
what  he  has  learned  to  his  shopmates,  and  feels  himself 
their  master.  As  yet  he  has  never  played  for  stakes. 
It  begins  thus :  Peeping  into  a  bookstore,  he  watches 
till  the  sober  customers  go  out ;  then  slips  in,  and  with 
assumed  boldness,  not  concealing^  his  shame,  he  asks 
for  cards,  buys  them,  and  hastens  out.  The  first  game 
is  to  pay  for  the  cards.  After  the  relish  of  playing  for 
a  stake,  no  game  can  satisfy  them  vntliotU  a  stake.  A 
few  nuts  are  staked,  then  a  bottle  of  wine,  an  oyster- 
supper.  At  last  they  can  venture  a  sixpence  in  actual 
money,  just  for  the  amusement  of  it.  I  need  go  no 
further ;  whoever  wishes  to  do  anything  with  the  lad 


100  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG  MEN. 

can  do  it  now.  If  properly  plied  and  gradually  led,  lie 
will  go  to  any  length,  and  stop  only  at  the  g;allows.  Do 
you  doubt  it  ?  let  us  trace  him  a  year  or  two  further  on. 
With  his  father's  blessing  and  his  mother's  tears,  the 
young  man  departs  from  home.  He  has  received  his 
patrimony,  and  embarks  for  life  and  independence. 
Upon  his  journey  he  rests  at  a  city  ;  visits  the  "  school 
of  morals  "  ;  lingers  in  more  suspicious  places  ;  is  seen 
by  a  sharper,  and  makes  his  acquaintance.  The  knave 
sits  by  him  at  dinner  ;  gives  him  the  news  of  the  place, 
and  a  world  of  advice  ;  cautions  him  against  sharpers ; 
inquires  if  he  has  money,  and  charges  him  to  keep  it 
secret ;  offers  himself  to  make  with  him  the  rounds  of 
the  town,  and  secure  him  from  imposition.  At  length, 
that  he  may  see  all,  he  is  taken  to  a  gaming-house,  but, 
with  apparent  kindness,  warned  not  to  play.  He  stands 
by  to  see  the  various  fortunes  of  the  game  ;  some  for- 
ever losing  ;  some,  touch  what  number  they  will,  gain- 
ing piles  of  gold.  Looking  in  thirst  where  wine  is  free. 
A  glass  is  taken ;  another  of  a  better  kind ;  next,  the 
best  the  landlord  has,  and  two  glasses  of  that.  A  change 
comes  over  the  youth  ;  his  exhilaration  raises  his  cour- 
acje  and  lulls  his  caution.  Gamblini:^  seen  seems  a  differ- 
ent  thing  from  gambling  painted  by  a  pious  father  ! 
Just  then  his  friend  remarks  that  one  might  easily 
double  his  money  by  a  few  ventures,  but  that  it  was, 
perhaps,  prudent  not  to  risk.  Only  this  was  needed  to 
fire  his  mind.  What !  only  prudence  between  me  and 
gain  ?  Then  that  shall  not  be  long !  He  stakes ;  he 
wins.  Stakes  again ;  wins  again.  Glorious  !  I  am  the 
lucky  man  that  is  to  break  the  bank  !  He  stakes,  and 
wins  again.     His  pulse  races,  liis  face  burns,  his  blood 


GA3IBLEES   AXD   GAMBLIXG.  101 

is  up,  and  fear  gone.  He  loses  ;  loses  again ;  loses  all 
liis  winnings  ;  loses  more.  But  fortune  turns  again  ;  he 
wins  anew.  He  has  now  lost  all  self-command.  Gains 
excite  him,  and  losses  excite  him  more.  He  doubles 
his  stakes  ;  then  trebles  them,  —  and  all  is  swept.  He 
rushes  on,  puts  up  his  whole  purse,  and  loses  the  whole  ! 
Then  he  would  borrow  ;  no  man  wdll  lend.  He  is  des- 
perate ;  he  will  fight  at  a  word.  He  is  led  to  the  street 
and  thrust  out.  The  cool  breeze  which  blows  upon  his 
fevered  cheek  wafts  the  slow  and  solemn  stroke  of  the 
clock,  —  one,  —  two,  —  three,  —  four  ;  four  of  the  morn- 
ing !  Quick  work  of  ruin  !  an  innocent  man  destroyed 
in  a  night !  He  staggers  to  his  hotel,  remembers,  as  he 
enters  it,  that  he  has  not  even  enough  to  pay  his  bill. 
It  now  flashes  upon  him  that  his  friend,  who  never  had 
left  him  for  an  hour  before,  had  stayed  behind  where 
his  money  is,  and  doubtless  is  laughing  over  his  spoils. 
His  blood  boils  with  rage.  But  at  length  comes  up  the 
remembrance  of  home  ;  a  parent's  training  and  counsels 
for  more  than  twenty  years  destroyed  in  a  night ! 
"  Good  God  !  what  a  wretch  I  have  been  !  I  am  not  fit 
to  live.  I  cannot  go  home.  I  am  a  stranger  here.  O, 
that  I  were  dead !  0,  that  I  had  died  before  I  knew 
this  guilt,  and  were  lying  wliere  my  sister  lies  !  0 
God  !  0  God  !  my  head  w^U  burst  with  agony  !  "  He 
stalks  his  lonely  room  with  an  agony  which  only  the 
young  heart  knows  in  its  first  horrible  awakening  to 
remorse,  —  when  it  looks  despair  full  in  the  face,  and 
feels  its  hideous  incantations  tempting  him  to  suicide. 
Subdued  at  length  by  agony,  cowed  and  weakened  by 
distress,  he  is  sought  again  by  those  who  plucked  him. 
Cunning  to  subvert  inexperience,- 4©r.-¥aiste  the  evil  pas- 


I; 


UKI7!' 


0?   TFT'-         >J^ 


102  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG   MEX. 

sions  and  to  allay  the  good,  they  make  him  their  pliant 
tool. 

Farewell,  young  man  !  I  see  thy  steps  turned  to  that 
haunt  again  !  I  see  hope  lighting  thy  face  ;  but  it  is  a 
lurid  liglit,  and  never  came  from  heaven.  Stop  before 
that  threshold.  Turn,  and  bid  farewell  to  home,  fare- 
well to  innocence,  farewell  to  venerable  father  and  aged 
mother  1  The  next  step  shall  part  thee  from  them  all 
forever.  And  now  henceforth  be  a  mate  to  thieves,  a 
brother  to  corruption.  Thou  hast  made  a  league  with 
death,  and  unto  death  shalt  thou  go. 

Let  us  here  pause,  to  draw  the  likeness  of  a  few  who 
stand  conspicuous  in  that  vulgar  crowd  of  gamblers, 
with  which  hereafter  he  will  consort.  The  first  is  a 
taciturn,  quiet  man.  No  one  knows  when  he  comes 
into  town  or  when  he  leaves.  No  man  hears  of  his 
gaining  ;  for  he  never  boasts,  nor  reports  his  luck.  He 
spends  little  for  parade ;  his  money  seems  to  go  and 
come  only  through  the  game.  He  reads  none,  converses 
none,  is  neither  a  glutton  nor  a  hard  drinker  ;  he  sports 
few  ornaments,  and  \vears  plain  clothing.  Upon  the 
whole,  he  seems  a  gentlemanly  man  ;  and  sober  citizens 
say,  "  His  only  fault  is  gambling."  What  then  is  tliis 
only  fault  ?  In  his  heart  he  has  the  most  intense 
and  consuming  lust  of  play.  He  is  quiet  because  every 
passion  is  absorbed  in  one  ;  and  that  one  burning  at  the 
highest  flame.  He  thinks  of  nothing  else,  cares  only 
for  this.  All  other  things,  even  the  hottest  lusts  of 
other  men,  are  too  cool  to  be  temptations  to  him,  so 
much  deeper  is  the  style  of  his  passions.  He  wdll  sit 
upon  his  chair,  and  no  man  shall  see  him  move  for 
hours,  except  to  play  his  cards.     He  sees  none  come  in, 


GAMBLERS   AND   GxVMBLING.  103 

none  go  out.  Death  might  groan  on  one  side  of  the 
room,  and  marriage  might  sport  on  the  other,  —  he 
would  laiow  neither.  Every  created  influence  is  shut 
out ;  one  thing  only  moves  him,  —  the  game  ;  and  that 
leaves  not  one  pulse  of  excitability  unaroused,  but  stirs 
his  soul  to  the  very  dregs. 

Very  different  is  the  roistering  gamester.  He  bears 
a  jolly  face,  a  glistening  eye  something  watery  through 
watching  and  drink.  His  fingers  are  manacled  in  rings  ; 
his  bosom  glows  with  pearls  and  diamonds.  He  learns 
the  time  which  he  wastes  from  a  watch  full  gorgeously 
carved  (and  not  with  the  most  modest  scenes),  and 
slung  around  his  neck  by  a  ponderous  golden  chain. 
There  is  not  so  splendid  a  fellow  to  be  seen  sweeping 
through  the  streets.    The  landlord  makes  him  welcome, 

—  he  will  bear  a  full  bill.  The  tailor  smiles  like  May, 
^he  will  buy  half  his  shop.  Other  places  bid  him 
welcome,  —  he  will  bear  large  stealings. 

Like  the  judge,  he  makes  his  circuit,  but  not  for 
justice ;  like  the  preacher,  he  has  his  appointments, 
but  not  for  instruction.  His  circuits  are  the  race- 
courses, the  crawded  capital,  days  of  general  convoca- 
tion, conventions,  and  mass-ojatherinos.  He  will  flame 
on  tlie  race-track,  bet  his  thousands,  and  beat  the  ring 
at  swearing,  oaths  vernacular,  imported,  simple,  or  com- 
pound. The  drinking-booth  smokes  wdien  he  draws  in 
his  welcome  suite.  Did  you  see  him  only  by  day,  flam- 
ing in  apparel,  jovial  and  free-hearted,  at  the  restaura- 
teur or  hotel,  you  would  think  him  a  prince  let  loose, 

—  a  cross  between  Prince  Hal  and  Falstaff. 

But  night  is  his  day.  These  are  mere  exercises,  and 
brief  prefaces  to  his  real  accomplishments.      He  is  a 


104  LECTUKES  TO   YOUNG  MEN. 

good  fellow  wlio  dares  play  deeper ;  lie  is  wild,  indeed, 
who  seems  wilder ;  and  he  is  keen,  indeed,  who  is 
sharper  than  he  is,  after  all  tliis  show  of  frankness.  JSTo 
one  is  quicker,  slyer,  and  more  alert  at  a  game.  He 
can  shuffle  tlie  pack  till  an  honest  man  would  as  soon 
think  of  looking  for  a  iDarticular  drop  of  water  in  the 
ocean  as  for  a  particular  card  in  any  particular  place. 
Perhaps  he  is  ignorant  which  is  at  the  top  and  which  at 
the  bottom !  At  any  rate,  watch  him  closely,  or  you 
will  get  a  lean  hand  and  he  a  fat  one.  A  jDlain  man 
w^ould  think  him  a  wizard  or  the  Devil.  When  he 
touches  a  pack  they  seem  alive,  and  acting  to  his  will 
rather  than  his  touch.  He  deals  them  like  lightning ; 
they  rain  like  snow-flakes,  sometimes  one,  sometimes 
two,  if  need  be  four  or  five  together,  and  his  hand 
hardly  moved.  If  he  loses,  very  well,  he  laughs  ;  if  he 
gains,  he  only  laughs  a  little  more.  Full  of  stories,  full 
of  songs,  full  of  wit,  full  of  roistering  spirit,  —  yet  do 
not  trespass  too  much  upon  his  good-nature  with  in- 
sult. All  this  outside  is  only  the  spotted  hide  which 
covers  the  tiger.  He  who  provokes  this  man  shall  see 
what  lightning  can  break  out  of  a  summer-seeming 
cloud. 

These  do  not  fairly  represent  the  race  of  gamblers,  — 
conveying  too  favorable  an  impression.  Tliere  is  one, 
often  met  on  steamboats,  traveling  solely  to  gamble. 
He  has  the  servants  or  steward  or  some  partner  in 
league  with  him,  to  fleece  every  unwary  player  whom 
he  inveigles  to  a  game.  He  deals  falsely ;  heats  his 
dupe  to  madness  by  drink,  drinking  none  himself; 
watches  the  signal  of  his  accomplice  telegraphing  his 
opponent's  hand;    at  a  stray  look,  he  will  sli^:)  your 


GAMBLERS   AND    GAMBLING.  105 

money  off  and  steal  it.  To  cover  false  playing,  or  to 
get  rid  of  paying  losses,  he  will  lie  fiercely  and  swear 
uproariously,  and  break  up  the  play  to  fight  with  knife 
or  pistol,  —  first  scraping  the  table  of  every  penny. 
When  tlie  passengers  are  asleep  he  surveys  the  luggage, 
to  see  what  may  be  worth  stealing ;  he  pulls  a  watch 
from  under  the  pillow  of  one  sleeper,  fumbles  in  the 
pockets  of  another,  and  gathers  booty  throughout  the 
cabin.  Leaving  the  boat  before  morning,  he  appears  at 
some  village  hotel,  a  magnificent  gentleman,  a  polished 
traveler,  or  even  a  distinguished  nobleman  ! 

There  is  another  gambler,  cowardly,  sleek,  stealthy, 
humble,  mousing,  and  mean,  —  a  simple  bloodsucker. 
For  money  he  will  be  a  tool  to  other  gamblers  ;  steal 
for  them  and  from  them;  he  plays  the  jackal,  and 
searches  victims  for  them,  humbly  satisfied  to  pick  the 
bones  afterward.  Thus  (to  employ  his  own  language) 
he  ropes  in  the  inexperienced  young,  flatters  them, 
teaches  them,  inflames  their  passions,  purveys  to  their 
appetites,  cheats  them,  debauches  them,  draws  them 
down  to  his  own  level,  and  then  lords  it  over  them 
in  malignant  meanness.  Himself  impure,  he  plunges 
others  into  lasciviousness,  and  with  a  train  of  reekinoj 
satellites,  he  revolves  a  few  years  in  the  orbit  of  the 
game,  the  brothel,  and  the  doctor's  shop,  then  sinks 
and  dies  ;  the  world  is  purer,  and  good  men  thank  God 
that  he  is  gone. 

Besides  these,  time  would  fail  me  to  describe  the 
ineffable  dignity  of  a  gambling  judge ;  the  cautious, 
phlegmatic  lawyer,  gambling  from  sheer  avarice  ;  the 
broken-down  and  cast-away  politician,  seeking  in  the 
game  the  needed  excitement,  and  a  fair  field  for  all  the 

5* 


106  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG  MEN. 

base  tricks  he  once  played  off  as  a  patriot ;  the  pert, 
sharp,  keen  jockey-gambler ;  the  soaked,  obese,  plethoric, 
wheezing  bacchanal ;  and  a  crowd  of  ignoble  worthies, 
wearing  all  the  badges  and  titles  of  vice  throughout  its 
base  peerage. 

A  detail  of  the  evils  of  gambling  should  be  preceded 
by  an  illustration  of  that  constitution  of  mind  out  of 
which  they  mainly  spring,  —  I  mean  its  excitability. 
The  body  is  not  stored  with  a  fixed  amount  of  strength, 
nor  the  mind  with  a  uniform  measure  of  excitement ; 
but  both  are  capable,  by  stimulation,  of  expansion  of 
strength  or  feeling  almost  without  limit.  Experience 
shows  that,  within  certain  bounds,  excitement  is  health- 
ful and  necessary,  but  beyond  this  limit  exhausting 
and  destructive.  Men  are  allowed  to  choose  between 
moderate  but  long-continued  excitement  and  intense 
but  short-lived  excitement.  Too  generally  they  prefer 
the  latter.  To  gain  this  intense  thrill,  a  thousand 
methods  are  tried.  The  inebriate  obtains  it  by  drink 
and  drugs ;  the  politician,  by  the  keen  interest  of  the 
civil  campaign;  the  young,  by  amusements  which 
violently  inflame  and  gratify  their  appetites.  When 
once  this  higher  flavor  of  stimulus  has  been  tasted,  all 
that  is  less  becomes  vapid  and  disgustful.  A  sailor 
tries  to  live  on  shore ;  a  few  weeks  sufiice.  To  be  sure, 
there  is  no  hardship  or  cold  or  suffering ;  but  neither 
is  there  the  strong  excitement  of  the  ocean,  the  gale, 
the  storm,  and  the  world  of  strange  sights.  The  poli- 
tician perceives  that  his  private  affairs  are  deranged, 
his  family  neglected,  his  character  aspersed,  his  feelings 
exacerbated.  When  men  hear  him  confess  that  his 
career  is  a  hideous  waking  dream,  the  race  vexatious. 


GAMBLERS  AND   GAMBLI^'G.  107 

and  the  end  vanity,  tliey  wonder  that  he  clings  to  it ; 
but  he  knows  that  nothing  but  the  fiery  wine  which  he 
has  tasted  will  rouse  up  that  intense  excitement,  now  be- 
come necessary  to  his  happiness.  For  this  reason  great 
men  often  cling  to  public  office  with  all  its  envy,  jealousy, 
care,  toil,  hates,  competitions,  and  unrequited  fidelity ; 
for  these  very  disgusts  and  the  perpetual  struggle 
strike  a  deeper  chord  of  excitement  than  is  possible  to 
the  gentler  touches  of  home,  friendship,  and  love.  Here, 
too,  is  the  key  to  the  real  evil  of  promiscuous  novel- 
reading,  to  the  habit  of  revery  and  mental  romancing. 
JSTone  of  life's  common  duties  can  excite  to  such  wild 
pleasure  as  these ;  and  they  must  be  continued,  or  the 
mind  reacts  into  the  lethargy  of  fatigue  and  ennui.  It 
is  upon  this  principle  that  men  love  2^ctin ;  suffering  is 
painful  to  a  spectator;  but  in  tragedies,  at  public 
executions,  at  pugilistic  combats,  at  cock-fightings, 
horse-races,  bear-baitings,  bull-fights,  gladiatorial  shows, 
it  excites  a  jaded  mind  as  nothing  else  can.  A  tyrant 
torments  for  the  same  reason  that  a  girl  reads  her  tear- 
bedewed  romance,  or  an  inebriate  drinks  his  dram.  ^N'o 
longer  susceptible  even  to  inordinate  stimuli,  actual 
moans  and  shrieks,  and  the  writhing  of  utter  agony, 
just  suffice  to  excite  his  worn-out  sense,  and  inspire, 
probably,  less  emotion  than  ordinary  men  have  in 
listening  to  a  tragedy  or  reading  a  bloody  novel. 

Gambling  is  founded  upon  the  very  worst  perversion 
of  this  powerful  element  of  our  nature.  It  lieats  every 
part  of  the  mind  like  an  oven.  The  faculties  which 
produce  calculation,  pride  of  skill,  of  superiority,  love 
of  gain,  hope,  fear,  jealousy,  hatred,  are  absorbed  in  the 
game,  and   exhilarated  or  exacerbated   by  victory  or 


108  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG  MEN.  ^ 

defeat.  These  passions  are  doubtless  excited  in  men 
by  the  daily  occurrences  of  life ;  but  then  they  are 
transient,  and  counteracted  by  a  thousand  grades  of 
emotion,  which  rise  and  fall  like  the  undulations  of  the 
sea.  But  in  gambling  there  is  no  intermission,  no 
counteraction.  The  whole  mind  is  excited  to  the 
utmost,  and  concentrated  at  its  extreme  point  of  exci- 
tation for  hours  and  days,  with  the  additional  waste  of 
sleepless  nights,  profuse  drinking,  and  other  congenial 
immoralities.  Every  other  pursuit  becomes  tasteless  ; 
for  no  ordinary  duty  has  in  it  a  stimulus  which  can 
scorch  a  mind  which  now  refuses  to  burn  without 
blazing,  or  to  feel  an  interest  which  is  not  intoxication. 
The  victim  of  excitement  is  like  a  mariner  who  vent- 
ures into  the  edge  of  a  whirlpool  for  a  motion  more 
exhilarating  than  plain  sailing.  He  is  unalarmed  during 
the  first  few  gyrations,  for  escape  is  easy.  But  each 
turn  sweeps  him  farther  in ;  the  power  augments,  the 
speed  becomes  terrific,  as  he  rushes  toward  the  vortex, 
all  escape  now  hopeless.  A  noble  ship  went  in ;  it  is 
spit  out  in  broken  fragments,  splintered  spars,  crushed 
masts,  and  cast  up  for  many  a  rood  along  the  shore. 
The  specific  evils  of  gambling  may  now  be  almost 
imagined. 

I.  It  diseases  the  mind,  unfitting  it  for  the  duties  of 
life.  Gamblers  are  seldom  industrious  men  in  any 
useful  vocation.  A  gambling  mechanic  finds  his  labor 
less  relishful  as  his  passion  for  play  increases.  He 
grows  unsteady,  neglects  his  work,  becomes  unfaithful 
to  promises ;  what  he  performs  he  sliglits.  Little  jobs 
seem  little  enough ;  he  desires  immense  contracts,  whose 
uncertainty  has  much  the  excitement  of  gambling,  — 


GAMBLERS  AND   GAMBLING.  109 

and  for  the  best  of  reasons;  and  in  the  pursuit  of  great 
and  sudden  profits,  by  wild  scliemes,  he  stumbles  over 
into  ruin,  leaving  all  who  employed  or  trusted  him  in 
the  rubbish  of  his  speculations. 

A  gambling  lawyer,  neglecting  the  drudgery  of  his 
profession,  will  court  its  exciting  duties.  To  explore 
authorities,  compare  reasons,  digest,  and  write,  —  this 
is  tiresome.  But  to  advocate,  to  engage  in  fiery  con- 
tests with  keen  opponents,  —  this  is  nearly  as  good  as 
gambling.  ]\Iany  a  ruined  client  has  cursed  the  law, 
and  cursed  a  stupid  jury,  and  cursed  everybody  for  his 
irretrievable  loss,  except  his  lawyer,  who  gambled  all 
night  when  he  should  have  prepared  the  case,  and  came 
half  asleep  and  debauched  into  court  in  the  morning  to 
lose  a  good  case  mismanaged,  and  snatched  from  his 
gambling  hands  by  the  art  of  sober  opponents. 

A  gambling  student,  if  such  a  thing  can  be,  with- 
draws from  thoughtful  authors  to  the  brilliant  and 
spicy ;  from  the  pure  among  these  to  the  sharp  and 
ribald;  from  all  reading  about  depraved  life  to  seeing ; 
from  sight  to  experience.  Gambling  vitiates  the  im- 
agination, corrupts  the  tastes,  destroys  the  industry; 
for  no  man  will  drudge  for  cents  who  gambles  for 
dollars  by  the  hundred,  or  practice  a  piddling  economy 
while,  with  almost  equal  indifference,  he  makes  or  loses 
five  hundred  in  a  niMit. 

o 

II.  For  a  like  reason  it  destroys  all  domestic  habits 
and  affections.  Home  is  a  prison  to  an  inveterate 
gambler;  there  is  no  air  there  that  he  can  breathe. 
For  a  momojit  he  may  sport  with  his  children  and 
smile  upon  his  wife  ;  but  his  heart,  its  strong  passions, 
are  not  there.     A  little  branch-rill  may  flow  through 


110  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG  MEN. 

the  family,  but  tlie  deep  river  of  his  affections  flows 
away  from  home.  On  the  issue  of  a  game,  Tacitus 
narrates  that  the  ancient  Germans  would  stake  their 
property,  their  wives,  their  children,  and  themselves. 
AVhat  less  than  this  is  it,  when  a  man  will  stake  that 
property  which  is  to  give  his  family  bread,  and  that 
honor  which  gives  them  place  and  rank  in  society  ? 

When  'playiny  becomes  desperate  gamhliiig,  the  heart 
is  a  hearth  where  all  the  fires  of  gentle  feelings  have 
smouldered  to  ashes ;  and  a  thorough-paced  gamester 
could  rattle  dice  in  a  charnel-house,  and  wTangie  for 
his  stakes  amid  murder,  and  pocket  gold  dripping  with 
the  blood  of  his  own  kindred. 

III.  Gambling  is  the  parent  and  companion  of  every 
vice  which  pollutes  the  heart  or  injures  society. 

It  is  a  practice  so  disallowed  among  Christians,  and 
so  excluded  by  mere  moralists,  and  so  liateful  to  indus- 
trious and  thriving  men,  that  those  Avho  practice  it  are 
shut  up  to  themselves ;  unlike  lawful  pursuits,  it  is  not 
modified  or  restrained  by  collision  with  others.  Gam- 
blers herd  with  gamblers.  They  tempt  and  provoke 
each  other  to  all  evil,  without  affording  one  restraint, 
and  without  providing  the  counterbalance  of  a  single 
virtuous  impulse.  They  are  like  snakes  coiling  among 
snakes,  poisoned  and  poisoning ;  like  plague  patients,  in- 
fected and  diffusing  infection ;  each  sick,  and  all  con- 
tagious. It  is  impossible  to  put  bad  men  together  and 
not  have  them  grow  worse.  The  herding  of  convicts 
promiscuously  produced  such  a  fermentation  of  de- 
pravity, that,  long  ago,  legislators  forbade  it.  When 
criminals,  out  of  jail,  herd  together  by  choice,  the  same 
corrupt  nature  will  doom  them  to  growing  loathsome- 
ness, because  to  increasing  wickedness. 


GAMBLERS   AND   GAMBLING.  Ill 

IV.  It  is  a  provocative  of  thirst.  The  bottle  is 
almost  as  needful  as  the  card,  the  ball,  or  the  dice. 
Some  are  seduced  to  drink ;  some  drink  for  imitation, 
at  first,  and  fashion.  When  sujoer-excitements,  at  in- 
tervals, subside,  their  victim  cannot  bear  the  deathlike 
gloom  of  the  reaction;  and,  by  drugs  or  liquor,  fire 
up  their  system  to  the  glowing  point  again.  There- 
fore, drinking  is  the  invariable  concomitant  of  the 
theater,  circus,  race-course,  gaming-table,  and  of  all 
amusements  which  powerfully  excite  all  but  the  moral 
feelings.  When  the  double  fires  of  dice  and  brandy 
blaze  under  a  man,  he  w^ll  soon  be  consumed.  If  men 
are  found  who  do  not  drink,  they  are  the  more  notice- 
able, because  exceptions. 

V.  It  is,  even  in  its  fairest  form,  the  almost  inev- 
itable coMse  of  dishonesty.  Eobbers  have  robbers' 
honor ;  thieves  have  thieves'  law ;  and  pirates  conform 
to  pirates'  regulations.  But  w^here  is  there  a  gambler's 
code  ?  One  law  there  is,  and  this  not  universal.  Pay 
your  ganibling  debts.  But  on  the  Avide  question,  how  is 
it  fair  to  vjin,  what  law  is  there  ?  What  will  shut  a 
man  out  from  a  gambler's  club  ?  May  he  not  discover 
his  opponent's  hand  by  fraud  ?  May  not  a  concealed 
thread,  pulling  the  significant  one;  one,  two;  or  one, 
two,  three;  or  the  sign  of  a  bribed  servant  or  w^aiter, 
inform  him,  and  yet  his  standing  be  fair  ?  May  he  not 
cheat  in  shuffling,  and  yet  be  in  full  orders  and  ca- 
nonical ?  May  he  not  cheat  in  dealing,  and  yet  be  a 
welcome  gambler  ?  May  he  not  steal  the  money  from 
your  pile  by  laying  his  hands  upon  it,  just  as  any  other 
thief  would,  and  yet  be  an  api)roved  gambler  ?  ]\Iay 
not  the  whole  code  be  stated  thus :    Pay  ichat  yon  lose, 


112  LECTUKES  TO  YOUNG  MEX. 

get  iL'liat  you  can,  and  in  any  way  you  can  !  I  am  told, 
j)erliaps,  that  there  are  honest  gamblers,  gentlemanly 
gamblers.  Certainly ;  there  are  always  ripe  apples 
before  there  are  rotten.  Men  always  hcgin  before  they 
end ;  there  is  always  an  approximation  before  there  is 
contact.  Players  will  play  truly  till  they  get  used  to 
playing  untruly,  will  be  honest  tiU  they  cheat,  wiU 
be  honorable  till  they  become  base;  and  when  you 
have  said  all  this,  what  does  it  amount  to  but  this,  that 
men  who  really  gaml3le  really  cheat;  and  that  they 
only  do  not  cheat  who  are  not  yet  real  gamblers  ?  If 
this  mends  the  matter,  let  it  be  so  amended.  I  have 
spoken  of  gamesters  only  among  themselves  :  this  is  the 
least  part  of  the  evil ;  for  who  is  concerned  when  lions 
destroy  bears,  or  wolves  devour  wolf-cubs,  or  snakes 
sting  vipers  ?  In  respect  to  that  department  of  gam- 
bling which  includes  the  roping  in  of  strangers,  young 
men,  collecting-clerks,  and  unsuspecting  green-hands, 
and  robbing  them,  I  have  no  language  strong  enough 
to  mark  down  its  turpitude,  its  infernal  rapacity.  After 
hearing  many  of  the  scenes  not  unfamiliar  to  every 
gambler,  I  think  Satan  might  be  proud  of  their  deal- 
ings, and  look  up  to  them  with  that  deferential  respect 
with  which  one  monster  gazes  upon  a  superior.  There 
is  not  even  the  expectation  of  honesty.  Some  scullion- 
herald  of  iniquity  decoys  the  unwary  wretch  into  the 
secret  room ;  he  is  tempted  to  drink,  made  confident  by 
the  specious  simplicity  of  the  game,  allowed  to  win; 
and  every  bait  and  lure  and  blind  is  employed;  then 
he  is  plucked  to  the  skin  by  tricks  wliich  appear  as 
fair  as  lionesty  itself.  The  robber  avows  his  deed,  does 
it  openly ;  the  gambler  sneaks  to  the  same  result  under 


GAMBLERS   AND   GAMBLING.  113 

skulking  pretenses.  There  is  a  frank  way  and  a  mean 
way  of  doing  a  wicked  thing.  The  gambler  takes  the 
meanest  way  of  doing  the  dirtiest  deed.  The  victim's 
own  partner  is  sucking  his  blood ;  it  is  a  league  of 
sharpers,  to  get  his  money  at  any  rate ;  and  the  wicked- 
ness is  so  unblushing  and  unmitigated,  that  it  gives,  at 
last,  an  instance  of  what  the  deceitful  human  heart, 
knavish  as  it  is,  is  ashamed  to  try  to  cover  or  conceal ; 
but  confesses  with  helpless  honesty  that  it  is  fraud, 
cheating,  stealing,  robhcrij,  and  notliing  else. 

If  I  walk  the  dark  street,  and  a  perishing,  hungry 
wretch  meets  me  and  bears  off  my  purse  with  but  a 
sinole  dollar,  the  whole  town  awakes ;  the  ofidcers  are 
alert,  the  myrmidons  of  the  law  scout  and  hunt  and 
bring  in  the  trembling  culprit  to  stow  him  in  the  jail. 
But  a  worse  thief  may  meet  me,  decoy  my  steps,  and 
by  a  greater  dishonesty  filch  ten  thousand  dollars, — 
and  what  then  ?  T]ie  story  spreads,  the  sharpers  move 
abroad  unharmed,  no  one  stirs.  It  is  the  day's  conver- 
sation ;  and  Hke  a  sound  it  rolls  to  the  distance,  and 
dies  in  an  echo. 

Shall  such  astounding  iniquities  be  vomited  out 
amidst  us,  and  no  man  care  ?  Do  we  love  our  children, 
and  yet  let  them  walk  in  a  den  of  vipers  ?  Shall  we 
pretend  to  virtue  and  purity  and  religion,  and  yet 
make  partners  of  our  social  life  men  whose  heart  has 
conceived  such  damnable  deeds,  and  whose  hands  have 
performed  them  ?  Shall  there  be  even  in  the  eye  of 
religion  no  difference  between  the  corrupter  of  youth 
and  their  guardian  ?  Are  all  the  lines  and  marks  of 
morality  so  effaced,  is  the  nerve  and  courage  of  virtue 
so  quailed  by  the  frequcin}  and  bulduuss  of  flagitious 

0^>^    OP  TITT.      *-N^ 


114  LECTURES  TO  YOUNG  MEN. 

crimes,  that  men,  covered  over  with  wickedness,  shall 
find  their  iniquity  no  obstacle  to  their  advancement 
among  a  Christian  people  ? 

In  almost  every  form  of  iniquity  there  is  some  shade 
or  trace  of  good.  We  have  in  gambling  a  crime  stand- 
ing alone,  —  dark,  malignant,  uncompounded  wicked- 
ness !  It  seems  in  its  full  growth  a  monster  without  a 
tender  mercy,  devouring  its  own  offspring  witliout  one 
feeling  but  appetite.  A  gamester,  as  such,  is  the  cool, 
calculating,  essential  spirit  of  concentrated  avaricious 
selfishness.  His  intellect  is  a  living  thing,  quickened 
with  double  life  for  villainy ;  his  heart  is  steel  of  four- 
fold temper.  When  a  man  hcgins  to  gamble  he  is  as 
a  noble  tree  full  of  sap,  green  with  leaves,  a  shade  to 
beasts,  and  a  covert  to  birds.  When  one  becomes  a 
thorough  gambler,  he  is  like  that  tree  lightning-smitten, 
rotten  in  root,  dry  in  branch,  and  sapless  ;  seasoned 
hard  and  tough :  nothing  lives  beneath  it,  nothing  on 
its  branches,  unless  a  hawk  or  a  vulture  perches  for  a 
moment  to  whet  its  beak,  and  fly  screaming  away  for 
its  prey. 

To  every  young  man  who  indulges  in  the  least  form 
of  gambling  I  raise  a  warning  voice.  Under  the  spe- 
cious name  of  amusement  you  are  laying  the  founda- 
tion of  gambling.  Playing  is  the  seed  from  which 
comes  up  gambling.  It  is  the  light  wind  which  brings 
the  storm.  It  is  the  white  frost  which  preludes  the 
winter.  You  are  mistaken,  however,  in  supj)osing  that 
it  is  harmless  in  its  earliest  beginnings.  Its  terrible 
blight  belongs,  doubtless,  to  a  later  stage ;  but  its  con- 
sumption of  time,  its  destruction  of  industry,  its  distaste 
for  the  calmer  pleasures  of  life,  belong  to  the  very 


GAMBLERS   AND   GAMBLING.  115 

heginning.  You  will  begin  to  play  with  every  generous 
feeling.  Amusement  will  be  the  plea.  At  the  begin- 
ning the  game  will  excite  enthusiasm,  pride  of  skill, 
the  love  of  mastery,  and  the  love  of  money.  The  love 
of  money,  at  first  almost  imperceptible,  at  last  will  rule 
out  all  the  rest,  like  Aaron's  rod,  —  a  serpent,  swal- 
lowing every  other  serj^ent.  Generosity,  enthusiasm, 
pride  and  skill,  love  of  mastery,  will  be  absorbed  in  one 
mighty  feeling,  the  savage  lust  of  lucre. 

There  is  a  downward  climax  in  this  sin.  The  open- 
ing and  ending  are  fatally  connected,  and  drawn  toward 
each  other  with  almost  irresistible  attraction.  If  gam- 
bling is  a  vortex,  playing  is  the  outer  ring  of  the 
maelstrom.  The  thousand-pound  stake,  the  whole 
estate  put  up  on  a  game,  —  what  are  these  but  the 
instruments  of  kindling  that  tremendous  excitement 
which  a  diseased  heart  craves  ?  What  is  the  amuse- 
ment for  which  you  play  but  the  excitement  of  the  game  ? 
And  for  what  but  this  does  the  jaded  gambler  play  ? 
You  differ  from  him  only  in  the  degree  of  the  same 
feeling.  Do  not  solace  yourself  that  you  shall  escape 
because  others  have ;  for  they  stopped,  and  you  go  on. 
Are  you  as  safe  as  they,  when  you  are  in  the  gulf- 
stream  of  perdition,  and  they  on  the  shore  ?  But  have 
you  ever  asked  hoio  many  have  escaped  ?  Xot  one  in 
a  thousand  is  left  unblighted !  You  have  nine  hun- 
dred and  ninety-nine  chances  against  you  and  one  for 
you,  and  will  you  go  on  ?  If  a  disease  should  stalk 
through  the  town,  devouring  whole  families,  and  sparing 
not  one  in  five  hundred,  would  you  lie  down  under  it 
quietly  because  you  had  one  chance  in  five  hundred  ? 
Had  a  scorpion  stung  you,  would   it  alleviate  your 


116  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG  MEN". 

pangs  to  reflect  that  you  had  only  one  chance  in  one 
hundred  ?  Had  you  swallowed  corrosive  poison,  would 
it  ease  your  convulsions  to  think  there  was  only  one 
chance  in  fifty  for  you  ?  I  do  not  call  every  man  wdio 
plays  a  gambler,  but  a  gambler  in  cmhryo.  Let  me 
trace  your  course  from  the  amusement  of  innocent 
playing  to  its  almost  inevitable  end. 

Seem  the  first.  A  genteel  coffee-house,  whose  hu- 
mane screen  conceals  a  line  of  grenadier  bottles,  and 
,hides-respectable  blushes  from  impertinent  eyes.  There 
^s  a  quiet  little  room  opening  out  of  the  bar,  and  here 
sit  four  jovial  youths.  The  cards  are  out,  tlie  wines  are 
in.  The  fourth  is  a  reluctant  hand ;  he  does  not  love 
the  drink  nor  approve  the  game.  He  anticipates  and 
fears  the  result  of  both.  Why  is  he  here  ?  He  is  a 
whole-souled  fellow,  and  is  afraid  to  seem  ashamed  of 
any  fashionable  gayety.  He  will  sip  his  wine  upon  the 
importunity  of  a  friend  newly  come  to  tow^n,  and  is  too 
polite_tD_spoil  that  friend'^  pleasure  by  refusing  a  part 
\x\  thp.  gn.mp...  They  sit,  shuffle,  deal ;  the  night  wears 
on,  the  clock  telling  no  tale  of  passing  hours,  —  the 
prudent  liquor-fiend  has  made  it  safely  dumb.  The 
night  is  getting  old ;  its  dank  air  grows  fresher ;  the 
east  is  gray;  the  gaming  and  drinking  and  hilarious 
laughter  are  over,  and  the  youths  wending  homeward. 
What  says  conscience  ?  No  matter  what  it  says  ;  they 
did  not  hear,  and  we  will  not.  Whatever  was  said,  it 
w^as  very  shortly  answered  thus :  "  This  has  not  been 
gambling ;  all  were  gentlemen ;  there  w^as  no  cheating ; 
simply  a  convivial  evening ;  no  stakes  except  the  bills 
incident  to  the  entertainment.  If  anybody  blames  a 
young  man  for  a  little  innocent  exhilaration  on  a  special 


GAMBLEES   AXD   GAMBLING.  117 

occasion,  lie  is  a  superstitious  bigot ;  let  liim  croak  ! " 
SucL.  a  gariiiske4-gaiBe  is  made  the  text  to  justify  the 
whole  round,  of  gaiiihling.     Let  us  then  look  at 

Scene  the  second.  In  a  room  so  silent  that  there  is  no 
sound  except  the  shriU.  cock  crowing  the  morning, 
where  the  forgotten  candles  burn  dimly  over  the  long 
and  lengthened  wick,  sit  four  men.  Carved  marble 
could  not  be  more  motionless,  save  their  hands.  Pale, 
watchful,  though  weary,  their  eyes  pierce  the  cards  or 
furtively  read  each  other's  faces.  Hours  have  passed 
over  them  thus.  At  length  they  rise  without  words ; 
some,  with  a  satisfaction  which  only  makes  their  faces 
brightly  haggard,  scrape  off  the  piles  of  money ;  others, 
dark,  suUen,  silent,  fierce,  move  away  from  their  lost 
money.  The  darkest  and  fiercest  of  the  four  is  that 
young  friend  who  first  sat  down  to  make  out  a  game. 
He  will  never  sit  so  innocently  again.  What  says  he 
to  his  conscience  now  ?  "  I  have  a  right  to  gamble  ;  I 
have  a  right  to  be  damned,  too,  if  I  choose ;  whose  busi- 
ness is  it  ?  " 

Scene  the  third.  Years  have  passed  on.  He  has  seen 
youth  ruined,  at  first  with  expostulation,  then  with 
only  silent  regret,  then  consenting  to  take  part  of  the 
spoils  ;  and,  finally,  he  has  himself  decoyed,  duped,  and 
stripped  them  without  mercy.  Go  with  me  into  that 
dilapidated  house,  not  far  from  the  landing,  at  New 
Orleans.  Look  into  that  dirty  room.  Around  a  broken 
table,  sitting  upon  boxes,  kegs,  or  rickety  chairs,  see  a 
filthy  crew  dealing  cards  smouched  with  tobacco,  grease, 
and  li([uor.  One  has  a  pirate-face  burnished  and  burnt 
with  brandy ;  a  shock  of  grizzly,  matted  hair,  half 
covering  his  villain  eyes,  which  glare  out  like  a  wdld 


118  LECTUKES   TO   YOUNG   MEN. 

beast's  from  a  tliicket.  Close  by  him  wheezes  a  white- 
faced,  dropsical  wretch,  vermin  covered,  and  stenchful. 
A  scoundrel  Spaniard  and  a  burly  negro  (the  j oiliest  of 
the  four)  complete  the  group.  They  have  spectators,  — 
drunken  sailors,  and  ogling,  thieving,  drinking  women, 
who  should  have  died  long  ago,  when  all  that  was 
womanly  died.  Here  hour  draws  on  hour,  sometimes 
with  brutal  laughter,  sometimes  with  threat  and  oath 
and  uproar.  Tlie  last  few  stolen  dollars  lost,  and  temper 
too,  each  charges  each  with  cheating,  and  high  words 
ensue,  and  blows  ;  and  the  whole  gang  burst  out  the 
door,  beating,  biting,  scratching,  and  rolling  over  and 
over  in  the  dirt  and  dust.  The  worst,  the  fiercest,  the 
drunkest  of  the  four  is  our  friend  who  began  by  making 
up  the  game. 

Scene  the  fourth.  Upon  this  bright  day  stand  with 
me,  if  you  would  be  sick  of  humanity,  and  look  over  that 
multitude  of  men  kindly  gathered  to  see  a  murderer 
hung  At  last  a  guarded  cart  drags  on  a  thrice-guarded 
wretch.  At  the  gallows'  ladder  his  courage  fails.  His 
coward  feet  refuse  to  ascend  ;  dragged  u^,  he  is  sup- 
ported by  bustling  officials;  his  brain  reels,  his  eye 
swims,  while  the  meek  minister  utters  a  final  prayer  by 
his  leaden  ear.  The  prayer  is  said,  the  noose  is  fixed, 
the  signal  is  given  ;  a  sliudder  runs  through  the  crowd 
as  he  swings  free.  After  a  moment  his  convulsed  limbs 
stretch  down  and  hang  heavily  and  still ;  and  he  who 
began  to  gamble  to  make  up  a  game,  and  ended  with 
stabbing  an  enraged  victim  whom  he  had  fleeced,  has 
here  played  his  last  game,  —  himself  the  stake. 

I  feel  impelled,  in  closing,  to  call  the  attention  of  all 
sober  citizens  to  some  potent  influences  which  are  ex- 
erted in  favor  of  gambling. 


GAMBLEKS   AND    GAMBLING.  119 

In  our  civil  economy  we  have  legislators  to  devise 
and  enact  wholesome  laws,  lawyers  to  counsel  and  aid 
those  who  need  the  laws'  relief,  and  judges  to  determine 
and  administer  the  laws.  If  legislators,  lawyers,  and 
judges  are  gamblers,  with  what  hope  do  we  warn  off  the 
young  from  this  deadly  fascination,  against  such  author- 
itative examples  of  liigh  public  functionaries  ?  AVith 
what  eminent  fitness  does  that  judge  press  the  bench 
who,  in  private,  commits  the  vices  which  ofi&cially  he  is 
set  to  condemn  I  AVitli  what  singular  terrors  does  he 
frown  on  a  convicted  gambler  with  whom  he  played 
last  night  and  will  play  again  to-night !  How  wisely 
should  the  fine  be  light  which  the  sprightly  criminal 
will  win  and  pay  out  of  the  judge's  own  pocket ! 

With  the  name  of  Judge  is  associated  ideas  of  im- 
maculate purity,  sober  piety,  and  fearless,  favorless 
justice.  Let  it  then  be  counted  a  -dark  crime  for  a 
recreant  official  so  far  to  forget  his  reverend  place  and 
noble  office  as  to  run  the  gantlet  of  filthy  vices,  and  make 
the  word  Judge  to  suggest  an  incontinent  trifler,  who 
smites  with  his  mouth  and  smirks  with  his  eye ;  who 
holds  the  rod  to  strike  the  criminal,  and  smites  only  the 
law  to  make  a  gap  for  criminals  to  pass  through  !  If 
God  loves  this  land,  may  he  save  it  from  truckling, 
drinking,  swearing,  gambling,  vicious  judges  !  * 

With  such  judges  I  must  associate  corrupt  Legisla- 
tors, whose  bawling  patriotism  leaks  out  in  all  the 

*  The  general  eminent  integrity  of  the  Bench  is  unquestionable, 
and  no  remarks  in  the  text  are  to  be  construed  as  an  oblique  aspersion 
of  the  profession.  But  the  purer  our  judges  generally,  the  move 
shameless  is  it  that  some  will  not  abandon  either  their  vices  or  their 
office. 


120  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG  MEN. 

sinks  of  infamy  at  the  capital.  These  living  exemplars 
of  vice  pass  still-born  laws  against  vice.  Are  such  men 
sent  to  the  capital  only  to  practice  debauchery  ?  La- 
borious seedsmen,  they  gather  every  germ  of  evil; 
and,  laborious  sowers,  at  home  they  strew  them  far 
and  wide.  It  is  a  burning  shame,  a  high  outrage,  that 
public  men,  by  corrupting  the  young  with  the  example 
of  manifold  vices,  should  pay  back  their  constituents 
for  their  honors. 

Our  land  has  little  to  fear  from  abroad,  and  much 
from  within.  We  can  bear  foreign  aggression,  scarcity, 
the  revulsions  of  commerce,  plagues,  and  pestilences ; 
but  we  cannot  bear  vicious  judges,  corrupt  courts, 
gambling  legislators,  and  a  vicious,  corrupt,  and  gam- 
bling constituency.  Let  us  not  be  deceived.  The  decay 
of  civil  institutions  begins  at  the  core.  The  outside 
wears  all  the  lovely  hues  of  ripeness  when  the  inside 
is  rotting.  Decline  does  not  begin  in  bold  and  startling 
acts ;  but,  as  in  autumnal  leaves,  in  rich  and  glowing 
colors.  Over  diseased  vitals  consumptive  laws  wear 
the  hectic  blush,  a  brilliant  eye,  and  transparent  skin. 
Could  the  public  sentiment  declare  that  personal 
MORALITY  is  the  first  element  of  patriotism,  that  cor- 
rupt legislators  are  the  most  pernicious  of  criminals, 
that  the  judge  wlio  lets  the  villain  off  is  the  villain's 
patron,  that  tolerance  of  crime  is  intolerance  of  virtue, 
our  nation  might  defy  all  enemies  and  live  forever. 

And  now,  my  young  friends,  I  beseech  you  to  let 
alone  this  evil  before  it  be  meddled  with.  You  are 
safe  from  vice  when  you  avoid  even  its  apj)earance, 
and  only  then.  The  first  steps  to  wickedness  are  im- 
perceptible.    AVe  do  not  wonder  at  the  inexperience  of 


GAMBLEES   AXD    GAMBLING.  121 

Adam;  but  it  is  wonderful  that  six  thousand  years' 
repetition  of  the  same  arts  and  the  same  uniform 
disaster  should  have  taught  men  nothing;  that  gen- 
eration after  generation  should  perish,  and  the  wreck 
be  no  warning. 

The  mariner  searches  his  chart  for  hidden  rocks, 
stands  off  from  perilous  shoals,  and  steers  wide  of  reefs 
on  which  hang  shattered  morsels  of  wrecked  ships,  and 
runs  in  upon  dangerous  shores  with  the  ship  manned, 
the  wheel  in  hand,  and  the  lead  constantly  sounding. 
But  the  mariner  upon  life's  sea  carries  no  chart  of  other 
men's  voyages,  drives  before  every  wind  that  will  speed 
him,  draws  upon  horrid  shores  with  slumbering  crew, 
or  heads  in  upon  roaring  reefs  as  though  he  would  not 
perish  where  thousands  have  perished  before  him. 

Hell  is  populated  with  the  victims  of  harmless 
amusements.  Will  man  never  learn  that  the  way  to 
hell  is  through  the  valley  of  deceit  ?  The  power  of 
Satan  to  hold  his  victims  is  nothing  to  that  mastery  of 
art  by  which  he  first  gains  them.  When  he  approaches 
to  charm  us,  it  is  not  as  a  grim  fiend,  gleaming  from  a 
lurid  cloud,  but  as  an  angel  of  light  radiant  with  inno- 
cence. His  words  fall  like  dew  upon  the  flower,  as 
musical  as  the  crystal  drop  warbling  from  a  fountain. 
Begniiled  by  his  art,  he  leads  you  to  the  enclianted 
ground.  0,  how  it  glows  with  every"  refulgent  hue  of 
heaven  !  Afar  off  he  marks  tlie  dismal  gulf  of  vice  and 
crime,  its  smoke  of  torment  slowly  rising,  and  rising 
forever;  and  he  himself  cunningly  warns  you  of  its 
dread  disaster,  for  the  very  purpose  of  blinding  and 
drawing  you  thither.  He  leads  you  to  captivity  through 
all  the  bowers  of  lulling  magic.     He  plants  your  foot 


122  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG  MEN. 

on  odorous  flowers ;  he  fans  your  cheek  with  balmy 
breath ;  lie  overhangs  your  head  with  rosy  clouds ;  he 
fills  your  ear  with  distant,  drowsy  music,  charming 
every  sense  to  rest.  0  ye  who  liave  tliought  tlie  way 
to  heU  was  bleak  and  frozen  as  Norway,  parched  and 
barren  as  Sahara,  strewed  like  Golgotha  with  bones  and 
skulls  reeking  with  stench  like  the  vale  of  Gehenna,  — 
witness  your  mistake !  The  way  to  hell  is  gorgeous. 
It  is  a  highway,  cast  up ;  no  lion  is  there,  no  ominous 
bird  to  hoot  a  warning,  no  echoings  of  the  wailing-pit, 
no  lurid  gleams  of  distant  fires,  or  moaning  sounds  of 
hidden  woe.  Paradise  is  imitated  to  build  you  a  way 
to  death ;  the  flowers  of  heaven  are  stolen  and  poisoned ; 
the  sweet  plant  of  knowledge  is  here ;  the  pure  white 
flower  of  religion;  seeming  virtue  and  the  charming 
tints  of  innocence  are  scattered  all  along  like  native 
herbage.  The  enchanted  victim  travels  on.  Standing 
afar  behind,  and  from  a  silver  trumpet,  a  heavenly  mes- 
senger sends  down  the  wind  a  solemn  warning :  There 

IS  A  WAY  WHICH   SEEMETH  RIGHT  TO   MAN,  BUT  THE  END 

THEREOF  IS  DEATH.    And  again,  with  louder  blast :  The 

WISE  MAN  FORESEETH  THE  EVIL  ;  FOOLS  PASS  ON  AND  ARE 

PUNISHED.  Startled  for  a  moment,  the  victim  pauses, 
gazes  round  upon  the  flowery  scene,  and  whispers,  Is  it 
not  harmless  ?  Harmless  !  responds  a  serpent  from  the 
grass.  Harmless  !  echo  the  sighing  winds.  Harmless  ! 
re-echo  a  hundred  airy  tongues.  If  now  a  gale  from 
heaven  might  only  sweep  the  clouds  away  through 
which  the  victim  gazes !  0 ,  if  God  would  break  that 
potent  power  which  chains  the  blasts  of  hell,  and  let 
the  sulphur-stench  roll  up  the  vale,  how  would  the 
vision  change,  —  the  road  become  a  track  of  dead  men's 


GAMBLERS   AXD    GAMBLING.  123 

bones,  tlie  heavens  a  lowering  storm,  the  balmy 
breezes  distant  wailings,  and  all  those  balsam-shrubs 
that  lied  to  his  senses  sweat  drops  of  blood  upon  their 
poison  boughs  ! 

Ye  who  are  meddling  with  the  edges  of  vice,  ye  are 
on  this  road,  and  utterly  duped  by  its  enchantments. 
Your  eye  has  akeady  lost  its  honest  glance,  your  taste 
has  lost  its  purity,  your  heart  throbs  with  poison.  TJie 
leprosy  is  all  over  you  ;  its  blotches  and  eruptions  cover 
you.  Your  feet  stand  on  sHppery  i^laces,  whence  in  due 
time  they  shall  slide,  if  you  refuse  the  warning  which 
I  raise.  They  shall  slide  from  heaven,  never  to  be 
visited  by  a  gambler;  slide  down  to  that  fiery  abyss 
below  you,  out  of  which  none  ever  come.  Then,  when 
the  last  card  is  cast,  and  the  game  over,  and  you  lost, — 
then,  when  the  echo  of  your  fall  shall  ring  through  hell, 
—  in  mahgnant  triumph  shall  the  Arch-Gambler,  who 
cunningly  played  for  your  soul,  have  his  prey !  Too 
late  you  shall  look  back  upon  life  as  a  mighty  game,  in 
which  you  were  the  stake  and  Satan  the  winner. 


VI. 


THE    STRANGE    WOMAN. 

All  scripture  is  given  by  inspiration  of  God,  and  is  profit- 
able FOR  doctrine,  for  REPROOF,  FOR  CORRECTION,  FOR  INSTRUC- 
TION IN  RIGHTEOUSNESS:  THAT  THE  MAN  OF  GOD  MAY  BE  PERFECT, 
THOROUGHLY   FURNISHED   UNTO   ALL   GOOD   WORKS."  —  2   Tim.  iii. 

16,  17. 


UEELY  one  cannot  declare  tlie  whole  coun- 
sel of  God,  and  leave  out  a  subject  which 
is  interwoven  with  almost  every  chapter  of 
the  Bible.  So  inveterate  is  the  prejudice 
against  introducing  into  the  pulpit  the  subject  of  licen- 
tiousness, that  ministers  of  the  gospel,  knowing  the 
vice  to  be  singularly  dangerous  and  frequent,  have  yet 
by  silence  almost  complete,  or  broken  only  by  circuitous 
allusions,  manifested  their  submission  to  the  popular 
taste.*  That  vice  upon  which  it  has  pleased  God  to  be 
more  explicit  and  full  than  upon  any  other;  against 
which  he  uttered  his  voice  upon  Sinai,  Thou  shalt  not 
commit  adultery;  upon  which  the  lawgiver,  Moses, 
legislated  with  boldness ;  which   judges   condemned ; 

*  The  liberality  with  which  this  lecture  was  condemned  before  I 
had  written  it,  and  the  prompt  criticisms  afterwards,  of  those  who  did 
not  hear  it,  have  induced  me  to  print  it  almost  unaltered.  Otherwise 
I  should  have  changed  many  portions  of  it  from  forms  of  expression 
peculiar  to  the  pulpit  into  those  better  suited  to  a  book. 


THE   STRANGE  WOMAN.  125 

upon  which  the  A^enerable  prophets  spake  oft  and 
again;  against  which  Christ  with  singular  directness 
and  plainness  uttered  the  purity  of  religion ;  and  upon 
which  he  inspired  Paul  to  discourse  to  the  Corinthians, 
and  to  almost  every  primitive  church;  —  this  subject, 
upon  which  the  Bible  does  not  so  much  speak  as 
thunder,  not  by  a  single  bolt,  but  peal  after  peal,  we 
are  solemnly  warned  not  to  introduce  into  the  pidpit ! 

I  am  entirely  aware  of  the  delicacy  of  introducing 
this  subject  into  the  pulpit. 

One  difficulty  arises  from  the  sensitiveness  of  unaf- 
fected purity.  A  mind  retaining  all  the  dew  and 
freshness  of  innocence  shrinks  from  the  very  idea  of 
impurity,  as  if  it  were  sin  to  have  thought  or  heard 
of  it,  —  as  if  even  the  shadow  of  the  evil  would  leave 
some  soil  upon  the  unsullied  whiteness  of  the  virgin - 
mind.  Shall  we  be  angry  with  this  ?  or  shall  we  rudely 
rebuke  so  amiable  a  feeling,  because  it  regrets  a  neces- 
sary duty  ?  God  forbid  !  If  there  be,  in  the  world, 
that  whose  generous  faults  should  be  rebuked  only  by 
the  tenderness  of  a  reproving  smile,  it  is  the  mistake 
of  inexperienced  purity.  We  would  as  soon  pelt  an 
angel,  bewildered  among  men  and  half  smothered  with 
earth's  noxious  vapors,  for  his  trembling  apprehensions. 
To  any  such,  who  have  half  wished  that  I  might  not 
speak,  I  say:  Nor  would  I,  did  I  not  know  that 
purity  will  suffer  more  by  the  silence  of  sliame  than 
by  the  honest  voice  of  truth. 

Another  difficulty  springs  from  the  nature  of  the 
English  language,  which  has  hardly  been  framed  in  a 
school  where  it  may  wind  and  fit  itself  to  all  the  phases 
of  impurity.    But  were  I  speaking  French,  —  the  dialect 


126  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG   MEN. 

of  refined  sensualism  and  of  licentious  literature,  the 
language  of  a  land  where  taste  and  learning  and  art 
^Yait  upon  the  altars  of  impurity,  —  then  I  might 
copiously  speak  of  this  evil,  nor  use  one  plain  word. 
But  I  thank  God  the  honest  English  tongue  which  I 
have  learned  has  never  been  so  bred  to  this  vile  sub- 
servience of  evil.  We  have  plain  words  enough  to  say 
plain  things,  but  the  dignity  and  manliness  of  our  lan- 
guage has  never  grown  supple  to  twine  around  brilliant 
dissipation.  It  has  too  many  plain  words,  vulgar  words, 
vile  words ;  but  it  has  few  mirror-words,  which  cast  a 
sidelong  image  of  an  idea ;  it  has  few  words  which  wear 
a  meaning  smile,  a  courtesan  glance  significant  of  some- 
thing unexpressed.  When  public  vice  necessitates  pub- 
lic reprehension,  it  is,  for  these  reasons,  difficult  to 
redeem  plainness  from  vulgarity.  We  must  speak 
plainly  and  properly ;  or  else  speak  by  innuendo,  which 
is  the  Devil's  language. 

Another  difficulty  lies  in  the  confused  echoes  which 
vile  men  create  in  every  community  when  the  pulpit 
disturbs  them.  Do  1  not  know  the  arts  of  cunning 
men  ?  Did  not  Demetrius  the  silversmith  (worthy  to 
have  lived  in  our  day  !)  become  most  wonderfully  pious, 
and  run  all  over  the  city  to  rouse  up  the  dormant  zeal 
of  Diana's  worshippers,  and  gather  a  mob,  to  whom  he 
preached  that  Diana  must  he  cared  for ;  when  to  his 
fellow-craftsmen  he  told  the  truth,  OUR  craft  is  in 
DANGER?  Men  will  not  quietly  be  exposed.  They 
foresee  the  rising  of  a  virtuously  retributive  public  sen- 
timent, as  the  mariner  sees  the  cloud  of  the  storm 
rolling  up  the  heavens.  They  strive  to  forestall  and 
resist  it.     How  loudly  will  a  liquor-fiend  protest  against 


THE   STRAXGE   WOMAN.  127 

temperance  lectures,  —  sinful  enough  for  redeeming 
victims  from  his  paw !  How  sensitive  some  men  to 
a  church  bell !  They  are  high-priests  of  revivals  at  a 
horse-race,  a  theater,  or  a  liquor  supper ;  but  a  religious 
revival  pains  their  sober  minds.  Even  thus  the  town 
will  be  made  vocal  with  outcries  against  sermons  on 
licentiousness.  "Who  cries  out?  —  the  sober,  the 
immaculate,  the  devout  ?  It  is  the  voice  of  the  son 
of  midnight ;  it  is  the  shriek  of  the  strange  woman's 
victim ;  and  their  sensitiveness  is  not  of  purity,  but  of 
fear.  Men  protest  against  the  indecency  of  the  pul- 
pit, because  the  pulpit  makes  them  feel  their  own  inde- 
cency ;  they  would  drive  us  from  the  investigation  of 
vice,  that  they  may  keep- the  field  open  for  their  own 
occupancy.  I  expect  such  men's  reproaches.  I  know 
the  reasons  of  them.  I  am  not  to  be  turned  by  them, 
not  one  hair's  breadth,  if  they  rise  to  double  their  pres- 
ent volume,  until  I  have  hunted  home  the  wolf  to  his 
lair,  and  ripped  off  his  brindled  hide  in  liis  very  den ! 

Another  difficulty  exists  in  the  criminal  fastidious- 
ness of  the  community  upon  this  subject.  This  is  the 
counterfeit  of  delicacy.  It  resembles  it  less  than  paste 
jewels  do  the  pure  pearl.  "Where  delicacy,  the  atmos- 
phere of  a  pure  heart,  is  lost,  or  never  was  had,  a 
substitute  is  sought ;  and  is  found  in  forms  of  delicacy, 
not  in  its  feelings.  It  is  a  delicacy  of  exterior,  of  eti- 
quette, of  show,  of  rules ;  not  of  thought,  not  of  pure 
imagination,  not  of  the  crystal-current  of  the  heart. 
Criminal  fastidiousness  is  the  Pharisee's  sepulcher; 
clean,  white,  beautiful  without,  full  of  dead  men's  bones 
within,  —  the  Pliarisee's  platter,  the  Pliarisee's  cup,  — 
it  is  the  very  Pharisee  himself;  and,  like  him  of  old. 


128  LECTURES   TO  YOUNG  MEN. 

lays  on  burdens  grievous  to  be  borne.  Delicacy  is  a 
spring  whicli  God  has  sunken  in  the  rock,  which  the 
winter  never  freezes,  the  summer  never  heats ;  which 
sends  its  quiet  waters  with  music  down  the  flowery 
hillside,  and  which  is  pure  and  transparent,  because  it 
has  at  the  bottom  no  sediment.  I  would  tliat  every 
one  of  us  had  this  well  of  life  gushing  from  our  hearts, 
—  an  everlasting  and  full  stream  ! 

False  modesty  always  judges  by  the  outside ;  it  cares 
lioiu  you  speak  more  than  ivhat.  That  which  would 
outrage  in  plain  words  may  be  implied  furtively,  in 
the  sallies  of  wit  or  fancy,  and  be  admissible.  Every 
day  I  see  this  giggling  modesty,  which  blushes  at  lan- 
guage more  than  at  its  meaning ;  which  smiles  u2:)on 
base  things,  if  they  will  appear  in  the  garh  of  virtue. 
That  disease  of  mind  to  which  I  have  frequently  alluded 
in  these  lectures,  which  leads  it  to  clothe  vice  beauti- 
fully and  then  admit  it,  has  had  a  fatal  effect  also  upon 
literature  ;  giving  currency  to  filth  by  coining  it  in  the 
mint  of  beauty.  It  is  under  the  influence  of  this  dis- 
ease of  taste  and  heart,  that  we  hear  expressed  such 
strange  judgments  upon  English  authors.  Those  who 
speak  plainly  what  they  mean,  when  they  speak  at  all, 
are  called  rude  and  vulgar ;  while  those  upon  whose  ex- 
quisite sentences  the  dew  of  indelicacy  rests  like  so 
many  brilliant  pearls  of  the  morning  upon  flowers,  are 
called  our  moral  authors  ! 

The  most  dangerous  writers  in  the  English  language 
are  those  whose  artful  insinuations  and  mischievous 
polish  reflect  upon  the  mind  the  image  of  impurity, 
without  presenting  the  impurity  itself.  A  plain  vul- 
garity in  a  writer  is  its  own  antidote.     It  is  like  a  foe 


THE   STRAXGE   WOMAN.  129 

who  attacks  us  o^^enly,  and  gives  us  opportunity  of 
defence.  But  impurity,  secreted  under  beauty,  is  like 
a  treacherous  friend  who  strolls  with  us  in  a  garden  of 
sweets,  and  destroys  us  by  the  odor  of  poisonous  flowers 
proffered  to  our  senses.  Let  the  reprehensible  gross- 
ness  of  Chaucer  be  compared  with  the  perfumed, 
elaborate  brilliancy  of  Moore's  license.  I  would  not 
willmgly  answer  at  the  bar  of  God  for  the  writings  of 
either;  but  of  the  two,  I  would  rather  bear  the  sin 
of  Chaucer's  plain-spoken  words,  which  never  suggest 
more  than  they  say,  than  the  sin  of  Moore's  language, 
over  which  plays  a  witching  hue  and  shade  of  licen- 
tiousness. I  would  rather  put  the  downright  and  often 
abominable  vulgarity  of  Swift  into  my  child's  hand, 
than  the  scoundrel  indirections  of  Sterne.  They  are 
both  impure  writers,  but  not  equally  harmful.  The 
one  says  what  he  means,  the  other  means  what  he  dare 
not  say.  Swift  is,  in  this  respect,  Belial  in  his  own 
form ;  Sterne  is  Satan  in  the  form  of  an  angel  of  light : 
and  many  will  receive  the  temptation  of  the  angel  who 
would  scorn  the  proffer  of  the  demon.  "What  an  in- 
credible state  of  morals  in  the  English  Church,  that 
permitted  two  of  her  eminent  clergy  to  be  the  most 
licentious  writers  of  the  age,  and  as  impure  as  almost 
any  of  the  English  literature !  Even  our  most  classic 
authors  have  chosen  to  elaborate,  with  exquisite  art, 
scenes  wliich  cannot  but  have  more  effect  upon  the  pas- 
sions than  upon  the  taste.  Embosomed  in  the  midst  of 
Thomson's  glowing  Seasons  one  finds  descriptions  un- 
surpassed by  any  part  of  Don  Juan  ;  and  as  much  more 
dangerous  than  it  is,  as  a  courtesan  countenanced  by 
virtuous  society  is  more  dangerous  than  when  among 
6*  I 


130  LECTURES  TO  YOUNG  MEN. 

her  own  associates.  Indeed,  an  author  who  surprises 
you  with  refined  indelicacies  in  moral  and  reputable 
writings  is  worse  than  one  who,  without  disguise,  and 
on  purpose,  serves  up  a  w^hole  banquet  of  indelicacies. 
Many  will  admit  poison  morsels  well  sugared,  who 
would  revolt  from  an  infernal  feast  of  impurity.  There 
is  little  danger  that  rohhers  will  tempt  the  honest  young 
to  robbery.  Some  one  first  tempts  him  to  falsehood, 
next  to  petty  dishonesty,  next  to  pilfering,  then  to 
thieving  ;  and  now  only  will  the  robber  influence  him, 
when  others  have  handed  him  down  to  his  region  of 
crime.  Those  authors  who  soften  evil  and  show  de- 
formity with  tints  of  beauty,  who  arm  their  general 
purity  with  the  occasional  sting  of  impurity,  —  these 
are  they  who  take  the  feet  out  of  the  strait  path,  the 
guiltiest  path  of  seduction.  He  who  feeds  an  inflamed 
appetite  with  food  spiced  to  fire  is  less  guilty  than  he 
who  hid  in  the  mind  the  leaven  which  wrought  this 
appetite.  The  polished  seducer  is  certainly  more  dan- 
gerous than  the  vulgar  debauchee,  both  in  life  and  in 
literature. 

In  this  contrast  are  to  be  placed  Shakespeare  and 
Bulwer :  Shakespeare  is  sometimes  gross,  but  not  often 
covertly  impure.  Bulwer  is  slyly  impure,  but  not  often 
gross.  I  am  speaking,  however,  only  of  Shakespeare's 
plays,  and  not  of  his  youthful  fugitive  pieces ;  which, 
I  am  afraid,  cannot  have  part  in  this  exception.  He 
began  wrong,  but  grew  better.  At  first  he  wrote  by 
the  taste  of  his  age ;  but  when  a  man,  he  wrote  to  his 
own  taste :  and  though  he  is  not  without  sin,  yet,  com- 
pared with  liis  contemporaries,  he  is  not  more  illustrious 
for  his  genius  than  for  his  purity.     Eeprehension,  to  be 


THE   STRANGE   WO.MAX.  131 

effective,  should  be  just.  Xo  man  is  prepared  to  excuse 
properly  the  occasional  blemishes  of  this  wonderful 
writer,  who  has  not  been  shocked  at  the  immeasurable 
licentiousness  of  the  dramatists  of  his  cycle.  One  play 
of  Ford,  one  act,  one  conversation,  has  more  abomina- 
tions than  the  whole  world  of  Shakespeare.  Let  those 
women  who  ignorantly  sneer  at  Shakespeare  remember 
that  they  are  indebted  to  him  for  the  noblest  conceptions 
of  woman's  character  in  our  literature, — the  more  praise- 
worthy, because  he  found  no  models  in  current  authors. 
The  occasional  touches  of  truth  and  womanly  delicacy 
in  the  early  dramatists  are  no  compensation  for  the 
wholesale  coarseness  and  vulgarity  of  their  female  char- 
acters. In  Shakespeare,  woman  appears  in  her  true 
form,  —  pure,  disinterested,  ardent,  devoted ;  capable  of 
the  noblest  feelings  and  of  the  highest  deeds.  The 
language  of  many  of  Shakespeare's  women  would  be 
shocking  in  our  day;  but  so  would  be  the  domestic 
manners  of  that  age.  The  same  actions  may  in  one 
age  be  a  sign  of  corruption,  and  be  perfectly  innocent 
in  another.  No  one  is  shocked  that  in  a  pioneer-cabin 
one  room  serves  for  a  parlor,  a  kitchen,  and  a  bedroom 
for  the  whole  family  and  for  promiscuous  guests. 
Should  fastidiousness  revolt  at  this  as  vulgar,  the 
vulgarity  must  be  accredited  to  the  fastidiousness,  and 
not  to  the  custom.  Yet  it  would  be  inexcusable  in 
a  refined  metropolis,  and  everywhere  the  moment  it 
ceases  to  be  necessary.  But  nothing  in  these  remarks 
must  apologize  for  language  or  deed  which  indicates  an 
impure  heart.  No  age,  no  custom,  may  plead  extenua- 
tion for  essential  lust ;  and  no  sound  mind  can  refrain 
from   commendation  of  the  master  dramatist  of  the 


132  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG  MEN. 

world,  when  he  learns  that,  in  writing  for  a  most  licen- 
tious age,  he  rose  above  it  so  far  as  to  become  something 
like  a  model  to  it  of  a  more  virtuous  way.  Shake- 
si^eare  left  the  dramatical  literature  immeasurably 
purer  than  it  came  to  him. 

Bulwer  has  made  the  English  novel  literature  more 
vile  than  he  found  it.  The  one  was  a  reformer,  the 
other  an  implacable  corrupter.  We  respect  and  admire 
the  one  (while  we  mark  his  faults)  because  he  with- 
stood his  age ;  and  we  despise  with  utter  loathing  the 
other,  whose  specific  gravity  of  wickedness  sunk  him 
below  the  level  of  his  own  age.  With  a  moderate 
caution,  Shakespeare  may  be  safely  put  into  the  hands 
of  the  young.  I  regard  the  admission  of  Bulwer  as  a 
crime  against  the  first  principles  of  virtue. 

In  all  the  cases  which  I  have  considered,  you  will 
remark  a  greater  indulgence  to  that  impurity  which 
"breaks  out  on  the  surface,  than  to  that  which  lurks 
in  the  blood  and  destroys  the  constitution.  It  is  the 
curse  of  our  literature  that  it  is  traversed  by  so  many 
rills  of  impurity.  It  is  a  vast  champaign,  waving  with 
unexampled  luxuriance  of  flower  and  vine  and  fruit; 
but  the  poisonous  flower  everywhere  mingles  with  the 
pure,  and  the  deadly  cluster  lays  its  cheek  on  the 
wholesome  grape ;  nay,  in  the  same  cluster  grow  both 
the  harmless  and  the  hurtful  berry ;  so  that  the  hand 
can  hardly  be  stretched  out  to  gather  flower  or  fruit 
without  coming  back  poisoned.  It  is  both  a  shame 
and  an  amazing  wonder  that  the  literature  of  a  Chris- 
tian nation  should  reek  with  a  filth  which  Pagan  an- 
tiquity could  scarcely  endure;  tliat  the  ministers  of 
Christ  should  liave  left  floating  in  the  pool  of  offensive 


THE   STRANGE  WOMAN.  133 

writino-s  much  that  would  have  brousjht  blood  to  tlie 
cheek  of  a  Koman  priest,  and  have  shamed  an  actor  of 
the  school  of  Aristophanes.  Literature  is,  in  turn,  both 
the  cause  and  effect  of  the  spirit  of  the  age.  Its  effect 
upon  this  age  has  been  to  create  a  lively  relish  for 
exquisitely  artful  licentiousness,  and  disgust  only  for 
vulgarity.  A  witty,  brilliant,  suggestive  indecency  is 
tolerated  for  the  sake  of  its  genius.  An  age  which 
translates  and  floods  tlie  community  with  French 
novels  (inspired  by  Venus  and  Bacchus),  which  re- 
prints in  popular  forms  Byron  and  Bulwer  and  Moore 
and  Fielding,  proposes  to  revise  Shakespeare  and  expur- 
gate the  Bible  !  Men  who,  at  home,  allow  Don  Juan  to 
lie  within  reach  of  every  reader,  will  not  allow  a  minis- 
ter of  the  gospel  to  expose  the  evil  of  such  a  literature. 
To  read  authors  whose  lines  drop  with  the  very  gall  of 
death ;  to  vault  in  elegant  dress  as  near  the  edge  of  in- 
decency as  is  possible  without  treading  over ;  to  express 
the  utmost  possible  impurity  so  dexterously  that  not  a 
vulgar  word  is  used,  but  rosy,  glowing,  suggestive  lan- 
guage, —  this,  with  many,  is  refinement.  But  to  expose 
the  prevalent  vice,  to  meet  its  glittering  literature  with 
the  plain  and  manly  language  of  truth,  to  say  nothing 
except  what  one  desires  to  say  plaiidy,  —  this,  it  seems, 
is  vulgarity  ! 

One  of  the  first  steps  in  any  reformation  must  be, 
not  alone  nor  first  the  correction  of  the  grossness,  but 
of  the  elegances,  of  impurity.  Could  our  literature  and 
men's  conversation  be  put  under  such  autliority  that 
neither  should  express  by  insinuation  what  dared  not 
be  said  openly,  in  a  little  time  men  would  not  dare  to 
say  at  all  what  it  would  be  indecent  toepeak  plainly. 


I'DI 


i' 


134  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG  MEN. 

If  there  be  here  any  disciples  of  Bulwer  ready  to 
disport  in  the  very  ocean  of  license,  if  its  waters  only 
seem  translucent ;  who  can  read  and  relish  all  that  fires 
the  heart,  and  are  only  then  distressed  and  shocked 
when  a  serious  man  raises  the  rod  to  correct  and  repress 
the  evil ;  if  there  be  here  any  who  can  drain  his  goblet 
of  mingled  wine,  and  only  shudder  at  crystal  water; 
any  who  can  see  this  modern  prophet  of  villainy  strike 
the  rock  of  corruption  to  water  his  motley  lierd  of 
revelers,  but  hate  him  who,  out  of  the  rock  of  truth, 
should  bid  gush  the  healthful  stream,  —  I  beseech  them 
to  bow  their  heads  in  this  Christian  assembly,  and 
weep  their  tears  of  regret  in  secret  places,  until  the 
evening  service  be  done,  and  Bulwer  can  stanch  their 
tears,  and  comfort  again  their  wounded  hearts. 

Whenever  an  injunction  is  laid  upon  plain  and  unde- 
niable Scripture  truth,  and  I  am  forbidden,  upon  pain 
of  your  displeasure,  to  preach  it,  then  I  should  not  so 
much  regard  my  personal  feelings  as  the  affront  which 
you  put  upon  my  Master ;  and  in  my  inmost  soul  I  shall 
resent  that  affront.  There  is  no  esteem,  there  is  no 
love,  like  that  which  is  founded  in  the  sanctity  of  relig- 
ion. Between  many  of  you  and  me  that  sanctity  exists. 
I  stood  by  your  side  when  you  awoke  in  the  dark  valley 
of  conviction  and  owned  yourselves  lost.  I  have  led 
you  by  the  hand  out  of  the  darkness ;  by  your  side  I 
have  prayed,  and  my  tears  have  mingled  with  yours.  I 
have  bathed  you  in  the  crystal  waters  of  a  holy  baptism ; 
and  when  you  sang  the-  song  of  tlie  ransomed  captive,  it 
filled  my  heart  with  a  joy  as  great  as  that  wliich  uttered 
it.  Love,  beginning  in  such  scenes,  and  drawn  from  so 
sacred  a  fountain,  is  not  commercial,  not  fluctuating. 


THE   STRANGE   WOMAN.  135 

Amid  severe  toils,  and  not  a  few  anxieties,  it  is  the 
crown  of  rejoicing  to  a  pastor.  AA^iat  have  we  in  this 
world  but  you  ?  To  be  your  servant  in  the  gospel,  we 
renounce  all  those  paths  by  which  other  men  seek  pre- 
ferment. Silver  and  gold  is  not  in  our  houses,  and  our 
names  are  not  heard  where  fame  proclaims  others.  Eest 
we  are  forbidden  until  death ;  and,  girded  with  the 
whole  armor,  our  lives  are  spent  in  the  dust  and  smoke 
of  continued  battle.  But  even  such  love  will  not 
tolerate  bondage.  We  can  be  servants  to  love,  but 
never  slaves  to  caprice;  still  less  can  we  heed  the 
mandates  of  iniquity. 


The  proverbs  of  Solomon  are  designed  to  furnish  us  a 
series  of  maxims  for  every  relation  of  life.  There  will 
naturally  be  the  most  said  where  there  is  the  most 
needed.  If  the  frequency  of  warning  against  any  sin 
measures  the  liability  of  man  to  that  sin,  then  none  is 
worse  than  impurity.  In  many  separate  passages  is 
the  solemn  warning  against  the  strange  woman  given 
with  a  force  which  must  terrify  all  but  the  innocent 
or  incorrigible,  and  with  a  delicacy  which  all  will 
feel  but  those  whose  modesty  is  the  fluttering  of  an 
impure  imagination.  I  shall  take  such  parts  of  all 
these  passages  as  wiU  make  out  a  connected  narrative. 

When  vmclom  enteretJi  into  thy  heart,  and  hioidcdge 
is  pleasant  u7ito  thy  soul,  discretion  shall  2'^J^cscrve  thee, 
.  ...  to  deliver  thee  from  the  stranrje  tvoman,  which 
flattereth  ivith  her  tongue ;  her  lips  drop  as  a  honcyeomh, 
her  month  is  smootJier  than  oil.    Slie  sitteth  at  the  door  of 


136  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG   MEN. 

her  house,  on  a  seat  in  the  high  2^lnces  of  the  city,  to  call 
to  passengers  who  go  right  on  their  luays:  "  Whoso  is 
simple,  let  him  tarn  in  hither."  To  him  that  wcmteth 
unclerstanding,  she  saith,  "Stolen  ivaters  are  sweet,  and 
bread  eaten  in  seeret  is  pleasant'' ;  hut  he  hioiocth  not 
that  the  dead  are  there.  Lust  not  after  her  heauty,  neither 
let  her  take  thee  ivith  her  eyelids.  She  forsaketli  the  guide 
of  her  youth,  and  forgetteth  the  covenant  of  her  God.  Lest 
thou  shouldst  pjonder  the  path  of  life,  her  ways  are  mov- 
ahle,  that  thou  eanst  not  know  them.  Remove  thy  ivay 
far  from  her,  and  eome  not  nigh  the  door  of  her  house, 
for  her  house  inelineth  unto  death.  She  has  east  down 
many  icounded ;  yea,  many  strong  men  have  been  slain 
by  her.  Her  house  is  the  way  to  hell,  going  doivn  to  the 
chamber  of  death  ;  none  that  go  unto  her  return  again  ; 
neither  take  they  hold  of  the  paths  of  life.  Let  not  thy 
heart  decline  to  her  taays,  lest  thou  mourn  at  last,  when 
thy  flesh  and  thy  body  are  consumed,  and  say,  "  Hoio 
have  L  hated  instruction,  and  my  heart  despised  reproof. 
L  was  in  all  evil  in  the  midst  of  the  congregation  and 
assembly!' 

I.  Can  language  be  found  which  can  draw  a  corrupt 
beauty  so  vividly  as  this  :  Which  forsakcth  the  guide  of 
her  youth,  and  forgetteth  the  covenant  of  her  God .?  Look 
out  upon  that  fallen  creature  whose  gay  sally  through 
the  street  calls  out  the  significant  laugh  of  bad  men,  the 
pity  of  good  men,  and  the  horror  of  the  pure.  Was  not 
her  cradle  as  pure  as  ever  a  loved  infant  pressed  ? 
Love  soothed  its  cries.  Sisters  watched  its  peaceful 
sleep,  and  a  mother  pressed  it  fondly  to  her  bosom. 
Had  you  afterwards,  wlien  spring  tlowers  covered  the 
earth,  and  every  gale  was  odor,  and  every  sound  was 


THE   STEANGE  WOMAN.  137 

music,  seen  lier,  fairer  than  the  lily  or  the  violet,  search- 
ing them,  would  you  not  have  said,  "  Sooner  shall  the 
rose  grow  poisonous  tlmn  she ;  both  may  wither,  but 
neither  corrupt."  And  how  often,  at  evening,  did  she 
clasp  her  tiny  hands  in  prayer !  How  often  did  she 
put  the  wonder-raising  questions  to  her  mother,  of  God 
and  heaven  and  the  dead,  as  if  she  had  seen  heavenly 
things  in  a  vision !  As  young  womanhood  advanced, 
and  these  foreshadowed  graces  ripened  to  the  bud  and 
burst  into  bloom,  health  glowed  in  her  cheek,  love 
looked  from  her  eye,  and  purity  was  an  atmosphere 
around  her.  Alas,  she  forsook  the  guide  of  her  youth! 
Faint  thoughts  of  evil,  like  a  far-off  cloud  which  the 
sunset  gilds,  came  first ;  nor  does  the  rosy  sunset  blush 
deeper  along  the  heaven,  than  her  cheek  at  the  first 
thought  of  evil.  Xow,  ah,  mother,  and  thou  guiding 
elder  sister,  could  you  have  seen  the  lurking  spirit  em- 
bosomed in  that  cloud,  a  holy  prayer  might  have  broken 
the  spell,  a  tear  have  washed  its  stain  !  Alas,  they  saw 
it  not!  She  spoke  it  not;  she  was  forsaking  the  guide 
of  her  youth.  She  thinketh  no  more  of  heaven.  She 
breatheth  no  more  prayers.  She  hath  no  more  peniten- 
tial tears  to  shed,  until,  after  a  long  life,  she  drops 
the  bitter  tear  upon  the  cheek  of  despair, — then  her 
only  suitor.  Thou  hast  forsaken  the  covenant  of  thy 
God.  Go  down !  fall  never  to  rise !  Hell  opens  to  be 
thy  home ! 

O  Prince  of  torment,  if  thou  hast  transforming 
power,  give  some  relief  to  this  once  innocent  child 
whom  another  has  corrupted !  Let  thy  deepest  dam- 
nation seize  him  who  brought  her  hither;  let  his 
coronation  be  upon  the  very  mount  of  torment,  and 


138  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG   MEN. 

the  rain  of  fiery  hail  be  his  sahitation !  He  shall  be 
crowned  with  thorns  poisoned  and  anguish-bearing,  and 
every  woe  beat  upon  him,  and  every  wave  of  hell  roll 
over  the  first  risings  of  baffled  hope.  Thy  guilty 
thoughts  and  guilty  deeds  shall  flit  after  thee  with 
bows  which  never  break,  and  quivers  forever  emptying 
but  never  exhausted.  If  Satan  hath  one  dart  more 
poisoned  than  another,  if  God  hath  one  bolt  more  trans- 
fixing and  blasting  than  another,  if  there  be  one  hideous 
spirit  more  unrelenting  than  others,  they  shall  be  thine, 
most  execrable  wretch,  who  led  her  to  forsake  the  guide 
of  her  youth,  and  to  abandon  the  covenant  of  her  God. 

II.  The  next  injunction  of  God  to  the  young  is  upon 
the  ensnaring  danger  of  beauty.  Desire  not  her  leauty 
in  thy  heart,  oieither  let  her  take  thee  ivith  her  eyelids. 
God  did  not  make  so  much  of  nature  with  exquisite 
beauty,  or  put  within  us  a  taste  for  it,  without  object. 

^  He  meant  that  it  should  delight  us.  He  made  every 
flower  to  charm  us.  He  never  made  a  color,  nor  grace- 
ful flying  bird,  nor  silvery  insect,  without  meaning  to 
please  our  taste.  When  he  clothes  a  man  or  woman 
with  beauty,  he  confers  a  favor,  did  we  know  how  to 

,  receive  it.  Beauty,  with  amiable  dispositions  and  ripe 
intelligence,  is  more  to  any  w^oman  than  a  queen's 
crown.  The  peasant's  daughter,  the  rustic  belle,  if 
they  have  woman's  sound  discretion,  may  be  rightfully 
prouder  than  kings'  daughters ;  for  God  adorns  those 
who  are  both  good  and  beautiful,  man  can  only  conceal 
the  want  of  beauty  by  blazing  jewels. 

As  moths  and  tiny  insects  flutter  around  the  bright 
blaze  which  was  kindled  for  no  harm,  so  the  foolish 
young  fall  down  burned  and  destroyed  by  the  blaze  of 


THE   STRANGE   WOMAN.  139 

beauty.  As  the  flame  T\'liich  burns  to  destroy  the  in- 
sect is  consuming  itself  and  soon  sinks  into  the  socket, 
so  beauty,  too  often,  draws  on  itseK  that  ruin  which  it 
inflicts  upon  others. 

If  God  hath  given  thee  beauty,  tremble ;  for  it  is  as 
gold  in  thy  house ;  thieves  and  robbers  will  prowl 
around  and  seek  to  possess  it.  If  God  hath  put  beauty 
before  thine  eyes,  remember  how  many  strong  men 
have  been  cast  down  wounded  by  it.  Art  thou  stronger 
than  David  ?  Art  thou  stronger  than  mighty  patri- 
archs,—  than  kings  and  princes,  who  by  its  fascina- 
tions have  lost  peace  and  purity,  and  honor  and  riches, 
and  armies,  and  even  kingdoms  ?  Let  other  men's 
destruction  be  thy  ^^isdom ;  for  it  is  hard  to  reap  pru- 
dence upon  the  field  of  experience. 

III.  In  the  minute  description  of  this  dangerous 
creature,  mark  next  how  seriously  we  are  cautioned  of 
her  WILES. 

Her  wiles  of  dress.  Coverings  of  ta'pestry  and  the  fine 
linen  of  Egyipt  are  hers ;  the  perfumes  of  myrrh  and 
aloes  and  cinnamon.  Silks  and  ribbons,  laces  and  rinses, 
gold  and  equipage ;  ah,  how  mean  a  price  for  damna- 
tion !  The  wretch  who  would  be  hung  simply  for  the 
sake  of  riding  to  the  gallows  on  a  golden  chariot,  clothed 
in  king's  raiment,  what  a  fool  were  he!  Yet  how 
many  consent  to  enter  the  chariot  of  Death,  —  drawn 
by  the  fiery  steeds  of  lust  which  fiercely  fly,  and  stop 
not  for  food  or  breath  till  they  have  accomplished  their 
fatal  journey,  —  if  they  may  spread  their  seat  with 
flowery  silks,  or  flaunt  their  forms  with  glowing  apparel 
and  precious  jewels ! 

Her  wiles  of  speech.     Beasts   may  not  speak ;  this 


140  LECTURES  TO   YOUNG  MEN. 

honor  is  too  higli  for  tliem.  To  God's  imaged  son  this 
prerogative  belongs,  to  utter  thought  and  feeling  in 
articulate  sounds.  We  may  breathe  our  thoughts  to  a 
thousand  ears,  and  infect  a  multitude  with  the  best 
portions  of  our  soul.  How,  then,  has  this  soul's  breath, 
this  echo  of  our  thoughts,  this  only  image  of  our  feel- 
ings, been  perverted,  that  from  the  lips  of  sin  it  hath 
more  persuasion  than  from  the  lips  of  wisdom !  What 
horrid  wizard  hath  put  the  world  under  a  spell  and 
charm,  that  words  from  the  lijDS  of  a  strange  woman 
shall  ring  upon  the  ear  like  tones  of  music  ;  while  words 
from  the  divine  lips  of  religion  fall  upon  the  startled 
ear  like  the  funeral  tones  of  the  burial-bell !  Philos- 
ophy seems  crabbed ;  sin,  fair.  Purity  sounds  morose 
and  cross ;  but  from  the  lips  of  the  harlot  words  droj.) 
as  honey  and  flow  smoother  than  oil ;  her  speech  is 
fair,  her  laugh  is  merry  as  music.  The  eternal  glory 
of  purity  has  no  luster,  but  the  deej)  damnation  of  lust 
is  made  as  bright  as  the  gate  of  heaven. 

Her  wiles  of  love.  Love  is  the  mind's  light  and 
heat ;  it  is  that  tenuous  air  in  which  all  the  other 
faculties  exist,  as  we  exist  in  the  atmosphere.  A  mind 
of  the  greatest  stature,  without  love,  is  like  the  huge 
pyramid  of  Egypt,  chill  and  cheerless  in  all  its  dark 
halls  and  passages.  A  mind  with  love  is  as  a  king's 
palace  lighted  for  a  royal  festival. 

Shame  that  the  sweetest  of  all  the  mind's  attril)iites 
should  be  suborned  to  sin !  that  this  daugliter  of  God 
should  become  a  Ganymede  to  arrogant  lusts,  the  cup- 
bearer to  tyrants !  yet  so  it  is.  Devil-tempter !  will 
thy  poison  never  cease  ?  shall  beauty  be  poisoned  ? 
shall  lan^ua^ije   be  charmed  ?   shall   love  be  made  to 


THE   STRANGE   WOMAN.  141 

defile  like  pitch,  and  burn  as  the  living  coals  ?  Her 
tongue  is  like  a  bended  bow,  which  sends  the  silvery 
shaft  of  flattering  words.  Her  eyes  shall  cheat  thee,  her 
dress  shall  beguile  thee ;  her  beauty  is  a  trap,  her  sighs 
are  baits,  her  words  are  lures,  her  love  is  poisonous,  her 
flattery  is  the  spider's  web  spread  for  thee.  O,  trust 
not  thy  heart  nor  ear  with  Delilah  !  The  locks  of  the 
mightiest  Samson  are  soon  shorn  ofl",  if  he  will  but  lay 
his  slumbering  head  upon  her  lap.  He  who  could 
slay  heaps  upon  heaps  of  Philistines,  and  bear  upon  his 
huge  shoulders  the  ponderous  iron  gate,  and  pull  down 
the  vast  temple,  was  yet  too  weak  to  contend  with  one 
wicked,  artful  woman !  Trust  the  sea  with  thy  tiny 
boat,  trust  the  fickle  wind,  trust  the  chan2;in<T  skies  of 
April,  trust  the  miser's  generosity,  the  tyrant's  mercy ; 
but,  ah !  simple  man,  trust  not  thyself  near  the  artful 
w^oman,  armed  in  her  beauty,  her  cunning  raiment,  her 
dimpled  smiles,  her  sighs  of  sorrow,  her  look  of  love, 
her  voice  of  flattery ;  for  if  thou  hadst  the  strength 
of  ten  Ulysses,  unless  God  help  thee,  Calypso  shall 
make  thee  fast,  and  hold  thee  in  her  island. 

Xext,  beware  the  wile  of  her  reasonings.  To  Mm  that 
wantdli  understanding  she  saith,  Stolen  tcaters  are  sweet j 
and  bread  eaten  in  secret  is  2^lcasant.  I  came  forth  to 
meet  thee,  and  I  have  found  thee. 

^^^lat  says  she  in  the  credulous  ear  of  inexperience  ? 
"Why,  she  tells  him  that  sin  is  safe  ;  she  swears  to  him 
that  sin  is  pure  ;  she  protests  to  him  tliat  sin  is  inno- 
cent. Out  of  history  she  will  entice  liim,  and  say : 
Who  hath  ever  refused  my  meat-offerings  and  drink- 
offerings  ?  AVhat  king  have  I  not  sought  ?  AVhat  con- 
queror have  I  not  conquered  ?     Philosophers  Im^'e  not, 


142  LECTURES  TO   YOUNG   MEN. 

in  all  their  T\'isdom,  learned  to  hate  me.  I  have  been 
the  guest  of  tlie  world's  greatest  men.  The  Egyptian 
priest,  the  Athonian  sage,  the  Eoman  censor,  the  rude 
Gaul,  liave  all  worshiped  in  my  temple.  Art  thou 
afraid  to  tread  where  Plato  trod,  and  tlie  pious  Socrates  ? 
Art  thou  wiser  than  all  that  ever  lived  ? 

Nay,  she  readeth  the  Bible  to  him  ;  she  goeth  back 
along  the  line  of  history,  and  readeth  of  Abraham  and 
of  his  glorious  compeers ;  she  skippeth  past  Joseph  with 
averted  looks,  and  readeth  of  David  and  of  Solomon ; 
and  whatever  chapter  tells  how  good  men  stumbled, 
there  she  has  turned  down  a  leaf,  and  will  persuade 
thee,  with  honeyed  speech,  that  the  best  deeds  of  good 
men  were  their  sins,  and  that  thou  shouldst  only  imitate 
them  in  their  stumbling  and  falls. 

Or,  if  the  Bible  will  not  cheat  thee,  how  will  she 
plead  thine  own  nature  ;  how  will  she  whisper,  God  hath 
made  tlice  so.  How,  like  her  father,  will  she  lure  thee 
to  pluck  the  apple,  saying.  Thou  shalt  not  surely  die. 
And  she  will  hiss  at  virtuous  men,  and  spit  on  modest 
women,  and  shake  her  serpent  tongue  at  any  parity 
which  shall  keep  thee  from  her  ways.  0,  then,  listen 
to  what  God  says :  With  much  fair  speech  she  causcth 
him  to  yield  ;  tvith  the  flattery  of  her  lips  she  forced  him. 
He  goeth  after  her  as  an  ox  goetli  to  slaughter,  or  as  a 
fool  to  the  correction  of  the  stocks,  till  a  dart  strike 
through  his  liver,  —  as  a  "bird  liasteth  to  a  snare  and 
knoweth  not  that  it  is  for  his  life. 

I  will  point  only  to  another  wile.  When  inexpe- 
rience has  been  beguiled  by  her  infernal  machinations, 
how,  like  a  flock  of  startled  birds,  will  spring  up  late 
regrets  and  shame  and  fear ;  and,  worst  of  all,  how  will 


THE   STRAXGE   WOMAN.  143 

conscience  ply  her  scorpion- whip  and  lash  thee,  utter- 
ing with  stern  visage,  "  Thou  art  dishonored,  thou  art  a 
wretch,  thou  art  lost ! "  When  the  soul  is  full  of  such 
outcry,  memory  cannot  sleep  ;  she  wakes,  and  while 
conscience  still  plies  the  scourge,  will  bring  back  to 
thy  thoughts  youthful  purity,  home,  a  mother's  face,  a 
sister's  love,  a  father's  counsel.  Perhaps  it  is  out  of 
the  high  heaven  that  thy  mother  looks  down  to  see  thy 
baseness.  0,  if  she  has  a  mother's  heart,  —  nay,  but 
she  cannot  weep  for  thee  there ! 

These  wholesome  ipains,  not  to  be  felt  if  there  were 
not  yet  health  in  the  mind,  would  save  the  victim, 
could  they  have  time  to  work.  But  how  often  ha^^e  I 
seen  the  spider  watch,  from  his  dark  round  hole,  the 
struggling  fly,  until  he  began  to  break  his  web ;  and 
then  dart  out  to  cast  his  long,  lithe  arms  about  him,  and 
fasten  new  cords  stronger  than  ever.  So,  God  saith, 
the  strange  woman  shall  secure  her  ensnared  victims, 
if  they  struggle  :  Lest  thou  shouldst  loondcr  the  path  of 
life,  hzT  ivays  are  movable,  that  thou  canst  not  know  them. 

She  is  afraid  to  see  thee  soberly  thinking  of  leaving 
her  and  entering  the  path  of  life  ;  therefore  her  ways 
are  movable.  She  multiplies  devices,  she  studies  a 
thousand  new  wiles,  she  has  some  sweet  word  for  every 
sense,  —  obsequience  for  thy  pride,  praise  for  thy  vanity, 
generosity  for  thy  selfishness,  religion  for  thy  con- 
science, racy  quips  for  thy  wearisomeness,  spicy  scandal 
for  thy  curiosity.  She  is  never  still,  nor  the  same  ;  but 
evolving  as  many  shapes  as  the  rolliug  cloud,  and  as 
many  colors  as  dress  the  wide  prairie. 

IV.  Having  disclosed  her  wiles,  let  me  show  you 
what  God  says  of  the  chances  of  escape  to  those  who 


144  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG   MEN. 

once  follow  her :  None  that  go  unto  her  return  a/jain, 
neither  take  they  hold  of  the  jmths  of  life.  The  strength 
of  this  language  was  not  meant  absolutely  to  exclude 
hope  from  those  who,  having  wasted  their  substance  in 
riotous  living,  would  yet  return ;  but  to  warn  the  un- 
fallen  into  what  an  almost  hopeless  gulf  they  plunge,  if 

y  they  venture.  Some  may  escape,  —  as  here  and  there  a 
mangled  sailor  crawls  out  of  the  water  upon  the  beach, 
the  only  one  or  two  of  the  whole  crew;  the  rest  are 
gurgling  in  the  wave  with  impotent  struggles,  or  already 
sunk  to  the  bottom.  There  are  many  evils  which  hold 
their  victims  by  the  force  of  hahit ;  there  are  others 
which  fasten  them  by  breaking  their  return  to  society. 
Many  a  person  never  reforms,  because  reform  would 
bring  no  relief.  There  are  other  evils  which  hold  men 
to  them,  because  they  are  like  the  beginning  of  a  fire ; 
they  tend  to  burn  with  fiercer  and  wider  flames,  until 
all  fuel  is  consumed,  and  go  out  only  when  there  is 
nothing  to  burn.  Of  this  last  kind  is  the  sin  of  licen- 
tiousness •;  and  when  the  conflagration  once  breaks  out, 
experience  has  shown  what  the  Bible  long  ago  declared, 
that  the  chances  of  reformation  are  few  indeed.  The 
certainty  of  continuance  is  so  great,  tliat  the  chances  of 
escape  are  dropped  from  the  calculation ;  and  it  is  said, 
roundly,  none  that  go  unto  her  return  again. 

V.  We  are  repeatedly  warned  against  the  strange 
woman's  house. 

There  is  no  vice  like  licentiousness  to  delude  with 
the  most  fascinating  proffers  of  delight,  and  fulfil  the 
promise  with  the  most  loathsome  experience.    All  vices 

/^at  the  beginning  are  silver-tongued,  but  none  so  impas- 
i/         sioned  as  this.     All  vices  in  the  end  cheat  their  dupes. 


THE   STEANGE   WOMAN.  145 

but  none  with  such  overwhehning  disaster  as  licentious- 
ness. I  shall  describe  by  an  allegory  its  specious 
seductions,  its  plausible  promises,  its  apparent  inno- 
cence, its  delusive  safety,  its  deceptive  joys,  —  their 
change,  their  sting,  their  flight,  their  misery,  and  the 
victim's  ruin. 

Her  HOUSE  has  been  cunningly  planned  by  an  Evn, 
ARCHITECT  to  attract  and  please  the  attention.  It  stands 
in  a  vast  garden  full  of  enchanting  objects.  It  shines 
in  glowing  colors,  and  seems  fuU  of  peace  and  full  of 
pleasure.  All  the  signs  are  of  unbounded  enjoyment, 
safe,  if  not  innocent.  Though  every  beam  is  rotten,  and 
the  house  is  the  house  of  death,  and  in  it  are  all  the 
vicissitudes  of  infernal  misery,  yet  to  the  young  it  ap- 
pears a  palace  of  delight.  They  will  not  believe  that 
death  can  lurk  behind  so  brilliant  a  fabric.  Those  who 
are  within  look  out  and  pine  to  return,  and  those  who 
are  without  look  in  and  pine  to  enter.  Such  is  the 
mastery  of  deluding  sin. 

That  part  of  the  garden  which  borders  oti  the  high- 
way of  innocence  is  carefully  planted.  There  is  not  a 
poison  weed  nor  thorn  nor  thistle  there.  Ten  thousand 
flowers  bloom,  and  waft  a  thousand  odors.  A  victim 
cautiously  inspects  it ;  but  it  has  been  too  carefully  pat- 
terned upon  innocency  to  be  easily  detected.  This  outer 
garden  is  innocent ;  innocence  is  the  lure  to  wile  you 
from  the  path  into  her  grounds ;  innocence  is  the  bait 
of  that  trap  by  which  she  lias  secured  all  her  victims. 
At  the  gate  stands  a  comely  porter,  saying  blandly, 
Whoso  is  simple,  let  him  turn  in  hither.  Will  the  youth 
enter  ?  Will  he  seek  her  house  ?  Ta  himself  lie  says, 
"  I  will  enter  only  to  see  the  garden,  —  its  fruits,  its 


146  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG   MEN. 

flowers,  its  birds,  its  arbors,  its  warbling  fountains  ! "  He 
is  resolved  in  virtue.  He  seeks  wisdom,  not  pleasure. 
Dupe  !  you  are  deceived  already ;  and  this  is  your 
first  lesson  of  wisdom.  He  passes,  and  the  porter  leers 
behind  him.  He  is  within  an  Enchanter's  garden. 
Can  he  not  now  return,  if  he  wishes  ?  He  will  not 
wish  to  return,  until  it  is  too  late.  He  ranges  the  outer 
garden  near  to  the  highway,  thinking,  as  he  walks, 
"  How  foolishly  have  I  been  alarmed  at  pious  lies  about 
this  beautiful  place  !  I  heard  it  was  hell ;  I  find  it  is 
paradise  !  " 

Emboldened  by  the  innocency  of  his  first  steps,  he 
explores  the  garden  farther  from  the  road.  The  flowers 
grow  richer ;  their  odors  exhilarate ;  the  very  fruit 
breathes  perfume  like  flowers,  and  birds  seem  intoxi- 
cated with  delight  among  the  fragrant  shrubs  and 
loaded  trees.  Soft  and  silvery  music  steals  along  the  air. 
"  Are  angels  singing  ?  0,  fool  that  I  was,  to  fear 
this  place  !  it  is  all  the  heaven  I  need  !  Eidiculous 
priest,  to  tell  me  that  death  was  here,  where  all  is 
beauty,  fragrance,  and  melody  !  Surely,  death  never 
lurked  in  so  gorgeous  apparel  as  this.  Death  is  grim 
and  hideous."  He  has  come  near  to  the  strange 
woman's  house.  If  it  was  beautiful  from  afar,  it  is 
celestial  now  ;  for  his  eyes  are  bewitched  with  magic. 
^When  our  passions  enchant  us,  how  beautiful  is  the 
^  way  to  death  !  In  every  window  are  sights  of  pleasure  ; 
from  every  opening  issue  sounds  of  joy,  —  the  lute,  the 
harp,  bounding  feet,  and  echoing  laughter.  Nymphs 
have  descried  this  pilgrim  of  temptation ;  they  smile 
and  beckon.  Where  are  his  resolutions  now  ?  This  is 
the   virtuous   youth   who   came   to   observe !     He   has 


THE   STEAXGE   WOMAN.  147 

already  seen  too  mucli ;  but  lie  will  see  more  :  he  will 
taste,  feel,  regret,  weep,  wail,  die  I  The  most  beautifuT 
nymph  that  eye  ever  rested  on  approaches  with  decent 
guise  and  modest  gestures,  to  give  him  hospitable  wel- 
come. For  a  moment  he  recalls  his  home,  his  mother, 
his  sister-circle ;  but  they  seem  far  away,  dim,  power- 
less. Into  his  ear  the  beautiful  herald  pours  the  sweetest 
sounds  of  love :  "  You  are  welcome  here,  and  worthy. 
You  have  early  wisdom,  to  break  the  bounds  of  super- 
stition, and  to  seek  these  grounds  where  summer  never 
ceases  and  sorrow  never  comes.  Hail,  and  welcome,  to 
the  house  of  pleasure  ! "  There  seemed  to  be  a  response 
to  these  words ;  the  house,  the  trees,  and  the  very  air 
seemed  to  echo,  "  Hail,  and  welcome  I "  In  the  still- 
ness which  followed,  had  the  victim  been  less  intoxi- 
cated, he  might  have  heard  a  clear  and  solemn  voice 
which  seemed  to  fall  straight  down  from  heaven : 
Come  not  nigh  the  door  of  her  house.  Her  house 
IS  the  way  to  hell,  going  down  to  the  chambers 
of  death! 

It  is  too  late.  He  has  gone  in,  who  shall  never 
return.  He  goetli  after  her  straighticay  as  an  ox  goeth  to 
the  slaughter,  or  as  a  fool  to  the  correction  of  the  stocks, 
....  anclhnoiceth  not  that  it  is  for  his  life. 

Enter  with  me,  in  imagination,  the  strange  woman's 
house,  where  God  grant  you  may  never  enter  in  any 
other  way.  There  are  five  wards.  Pleasure,  Satiety, 
Discovery,  Disease,  and  Death. 

Ward  of  Pleasure. —  The  eye  is  dazzled  with  the 
magnificence  of  its  apparel,  —  elastic  velvet,  glossy  silks, 
burnished  satin,  crimson  drapery,  phishy  carpets.  Ex- 
quisite pictures  glow  upon  the  Avails ;  carved  marble 


148  LECTURES  TO  YOUNG  MEN. 

adorns  every  niche.  The  inmates  are  deceived  by  these 
lying  shows ;  they  dance,  they  sing ;  with  beaming 
eyes  they  utter  softest  strains  of  flattery  and  graceful 
compliment.  They  partake  the  amorous  wine  and  the 
repast  which  loads  the  table.  They  eat,  they  drink, 
they  are  blithe  and  merry.  Surely,  they  should  be ; 
for  after  this  brief  hour  they  shall  never  know  purity 
nor  joy  again.  For  this  mometit's  revelry  they  are  sell- 
ing heaven.  The  strange  woman  walks  among  her 
guests  in  all  her  charms ;  fans  the  flame  of  joy,  scatters 
grateful  odors,  and  urges  on  the  fatal  revelry.  As  her 
poisoned  wine  is  quaffed,  and  the  gay  creatures  begin 
to  reel,  the  torches  wane  and  cast  but  a  twilight.  One 
by  one  the  guests  grow  somnolent ;  and,  at  length,  they 
all  repose.  Their  cup  is  exhausted,  their  pleasure  is 
forever  over,  life  has  exhaled  to  an  essence,  and  that  is 
consumed.  AVhile  they  sleep,  servitors,  practiced  to 
the  work,  remove  them  all  to  another  ward. 

Ward  of  Satiety.  —  Here  reigns  a  bewildering  twilight 
through  which  can  hardly  be  discerned  the  wearied  in- 
mates, yet  sluggish  upon  their  couches.  Overflushed 
with  dance,  sated  Avith  wine  and  fruit,  a  fitful  drowsi- 
ness vexes  them.  They  wake  to  crave ;  they  taste  to 
loathe ;  they  sleep  to  dream  ;  they  wake  again  from 
unquiet  visions.  They  long  for  the  sharp  taste  of 
pleasure,  so  grateful  yesterday.  Again  they  sink,  re- 
pining, to  sleep  ;  by  starts  they  rouse  at  an  ominous 
dream;  by  starts  they  hear  strange  cries.  The  fruit 
burns  and  torments,  the  wine  shoots  sharp  pains 
through  their  pulse.  Strange  wonder  fills  them.  They 
remember  the  recent  joy,  as  a  reveler  in  the  morning 
thinks  of  his  midnight  madness.     The  glowing  garden 


THE   STRANGE   WOMAN.  149 

and  tlie  banquet  now  seem  all  stripped  and  gloomy. 
They  meditate  return ;  pensively  tliey  long  for  their 
native  spot.  At  sleepless  moments  mighty  resolutions 
form,  —  substantial  as  a  dream.  ]\Iemory  grows  dark. 
Hope  v/ill  not  shine.  The  past  is  not  pleasant,  the 
present  is  wearisome,  and  the  future  gloomy. 

Ward  of  Discovery.  —  In  the  third  ward  no  decep- 
tion remains.  The  floors  are  bare,  the  naked  walls 
drip  filth,  the  air  is  poisonous  with  sickly  fumes, 
and  echoes  with  mirth  concealing  hideous  misery. 
None  supposes  that  he  has  been  happy.  The  past 
seems  like  the  dream  of  the  miser,  who  gathers  gold 
spilled  like  rain  upon  the  road,  and  wakes,  clutching 
his  bed  and  crying,  "  Where  is  it  ? "  On  your  right 
hand,  as  you  enter,  close  by  the  door,  is  a  group  of 
fierce  felons  in  deep  drink  with  drugged  liquor.  AVith 
red  and  swollen  faces,  or  white  and  thin,  or  scarred 
with  ghastly  corruption ;  with  scowling  brows,  baleful 
eyes,  bloated  lips,  and  demoniac  grins ;  in  person  all 
uncleanly,  in  morals  all  debauched,  in  peace  bankrupt, 
—  the  desperate  wretches  ^\Tangle  one  with  the  other, 
swearing  bitter  oaths,  and  heaping  reproaches  each 
upon  each.  Around  the  room  you  see  miserable  crea- 
tures unappareled,  or  dressed  in  rags,  sobbing  and 
moaning.  That  one  who  gazes  out  at  the  window,  7 
calling  for  her  mother  and  weeping,  was  right  tenderly 
and  purely  bred.  She  has  been  baptized  twice,  —  once 
to  God  and  once  to  the  Devil.  She  sought  this  place 
in  the  very  vestments  of  God's  house.  "  Call  not  on 
thy  mother ;  she  is  a  saint  in  heaven,  and  cannot  hear 
thee  ! "  Yet  all  night  long  she  dreams  of  home  and 
childhood,  and  wakes  to  sigli  and  weep;  and  between 
her  sobs  she  cries,  "]\lother!  mother!" 


; 


150  LECTURES  TO  YOUNG   MEX. 

Yonder  is  a  youth,  once  a  servant  at  God's  altar. 
His  liair  hangs  tangled  and  torn,  his  eyes  are  bloodshot, 
his  face  is  livid,  his  fist  is  clinched.  All  the  day  he 
wanders  up  and  down,  cursing  sometimes  himself  and 
sometimes  the  wretch  that  brought  him  hither ;  and 
when  he  sleeps  he  dreams  of  hell,  and  then  he  wakes 
to  feel  all  he  dreamed.  This  is  the  ward  of  reality. 
All  know  why  the  first  rooms  looked  so  gay,  they 
were  enchanted.  It  was  enchanted  wine  they  drank, 
and  enchanted  fruit  they  ate  ;  now  they  know  the  pain 
of  fatal  food  in  every  limb. 

Ward  of  Disease.  —  Ye  that  look  wistfully  at  the 
pleasant  front  of  this  terrific  house,  come  with  me  now, 
and  look  long  into  the  terror  of  this  ward,  for  liere  are 
the  seeds  of  sin  in  their  full-harvest  form.  We  are  in 
a  lazar-room ;  its  air  oppresses  every  sense,  its  sights  con- 
found our  thoughts,  its  sounds  pierce  our  ear,  its  stench 
repels  us ;  it  is  full  of  diseases.  Here  a  shuddering 
wretch  is  clawing  at  his  breast  to  tear  away  that  worm 
which  gnaws  his  heart.  By  him  is  another,  whose 
limbs  are  dropping  from  his  ghastly  trunk.  Next  swel- 
ters another  in  reeking  filth,  his  eyes  rolling  in  bony 
sockets,  every  breath  a  pang,  and  every  pang  a  groan. 
But  yonder,  on  a  pile  of  rags,  lies  one  whose  yells  of 
frantic  agony  appall  every  ear.  Clutching  his  rags  with 
spasmodic  grasp,  his  swollen  tongue  lolling  from  a 
blackened  mouth,  his  bloodshot  eyes  glaring  and  roll- 
ing, he  shrieks  oaths  ;  now  blaspheming  God,  and  now 
imploring  him.  He  hoots  and  shouts,  and  shakes  his 
grisly  head  from  side  to  side,  cursing  or  praying ;  now 
calling  death,  and  then,  as  if  driving  away  fiends,  yell- 
ing, "  Avaunt !  avaunt ! " 


THE   STRAXGE   WOMAN.  151 

Another  has  been  ridden  by  pain  until  he  can  no 
longer  shriek,  but  lies  foaming  and  grinding  his  teeth, 
and  clinches  his  bony  hands  until  the  nails  pierce  the 
palm,  —  though  there  is  no  blood  there  to  issue  out, — 
trembling;  all  the  time  with  the  shudders  and  chills  of 
utter  agony.  Tlie  happiest  wretch  in  all  this  ward  is 
an  idiot,  dropsical,  distorted,  and  moping ;  all  day  he 
wags  his  head,  and  chatters,  and  laughs,  and  bites  his 
nails  ;  then  he  will  sit  for  hours  motionless,  with  open 
jaw,  and  glassy  eye  fixed  on  vacancy.  In  this  ward 
are  huddled  all  the  diseases  of  pleasure.  This  is  the 
torture-room  of  the  strange  woman's  house,  and  it 
excels  the  Inquisition.  The  wheel,  the  rack,  the  bed 
of  knives,  the  roasting  fire,  the  brazen  room  slowly 
heated,  the  slivers  driven  under  the  nails,  the  hot 
pincers,  —  what  are  these  to  the  agonies  of  the  last 
days  of  licentious  vice  ?  Hundreds  of  rotting  wretches 
would  change  their  couch  of  torment  in  the  strange 
woman's  house  for  the  gloomiest  terror  of  the  Inquisi- 
tion, and  profit  by  the  change.  Nature  herself  becomes 
the  tormentor.  N'ature,  long  trespassed  on  and  abused, 
at  length  casts  down  the  wretch ;  searches  every  vein, 
makes  a  road  of  every  nerve  for  the  scorching  feet  of 
pain  to  travel  on,  pulls  at  every  muscle,  breaks  in  the 
breast,  builds  fires  in  the  brain,  eats  out  the  skin,  and 
casts  living  coals  of  torment  on  the  heart,  ^^llat  are 
hot  pincers  to  the  envenomed  claws  of  disease  .?  What 
is  it  to  be  put  into  a  pit  of  snakes  and  slimy  toads,  and 
feel  their  cold  coil  or  piercing  fang,  to  the  creeping  of  a 
whole  body  of  vipers,  —  where  every  nerve  is  a  viper, 
and  every  vein  a  viper,  and  every  muscle  a  serpent; 
and  the  whole  body,  in  all  its  parts,  coils  and  twists 


152  LECTURES   TO   YOUXG  MEN". 

upon  itself  in  unimaginable  anguish  ?  I  tell  you  there 
is  no  inquisition  so  bad  as  that  which  the  doctor  looks 
upon.  Youug  man,  I  can  show  you  in  this  ward 
worse  pangs  than  ever  a  savage  produced  at  the  stake, 
than  ever  a  tyrant  waning  out  by  engines  of  torment, 
than  ever  an  inquisitor  devised  !  Every  year,  in  every 
town,  die  wretches  scalded  and  scorched  with  agony. 
Were  the  sum  of  all  the  pain  that  comes  with  the  last 
stages  of  vice  collected,  it  would  rend  the  very  heavens 
with  its  outcry,  would  shake  the  earth,  would  even 
blanch  the  cheek  of  infatuation.  Ye  that  are  loiter  in  jx 
in  the  garden  of  this  strange  woman  among  her  cheat- 
ing flowers,  ye  that  are  dancing  in  her  halls  in  the  first 
ward,  come  hither ;  look  upon  her  fourth  ward,  its 
vomited  blood,  its  sores  and  fiery  blotches,  its  prurient 
sweat,  its  dissolving  ichor  and  rotten  bones  1  Stop, 
young  man !  You  turn  your  head  from  this  ghastly 
room ;  and  yet,  stop,  and  stop  soon,  or  thou  shalt  lie 
here ;  mark  the  solemn  signals  of  thy  passage  !  Thou 
hast  had  already  enough  of  warnings  in  thy  cheek,  in 
thy  bosom,  in  thy  pangs  of  premonition. 

But,  ah  !  every  one  of  you  who  are  dancing  wdth  the 
covered  paces  of  death  in  the  strange  w^oman's  first 
hall,  let  me  break  your  spell ;  for  now  I  shall  open  the 
doors  of  tlie  last  ward.  Look  !  Listen  !  Witness  your 
own  end,  unless  you  take  quickly  a  warning  ! 

Ward  of  Death.  —  No  longer  does  the  incarnate 
wretch  pretend  to  conceal  her  cruelty.  She  thrusts,  — 
ay,  as  if  they  were  dirt,  —  she  shovels  out  the  wretches. 
Some  fall  headlong  through  the  rotten  floor,  a  long 
fall  to  a  fiery  bottom.  The  floor  trembles  to  deep 
thunders  which  roll  below.     Here  and  there  jets  of 


THE    STRANGE   WOMAN.  153 

flame  sprout  up  and  give  a  lurid  liglit  to  the  murky 
hall.  Some  would  fain  escape ;  and,  flying  across  the 
treacherous  floor,  which  man  never  safely  passed,  they 
go,  through  pitfalls  and  treacherous  traps,  with  hideous 
outcries  and  astounding  yells,  to  perdition.  Fiends 
laugh.  The  infernal  laugh,  the  cry  of  agony,  the 
thunder  of  damnation,  shake  the  very  roof,  and  echo 
from  wall  to  wall. 

0  that  the  young  might   see  the  end  of  vice  before 
they  see  the  beginning !     I  know  that  you  shrink  from  ") 
this  picture ;  but  your  safety  requires  that  you  should  [ 
look  long  into  the  Ward  of  Death,  that  fear  may  supply -< 
strength  to  your  virtue.     See  the  blood  oozing  from    / 
the  wall,  the  fiery  hands  which   pluck   the  wretches  [ 
down,  tlie  light  of  hell  gleaming  through,  and  hear  its    , 
roar  as  of  a  distant  ocean  chafed  with  storms.     AVill^' 
you    sprinkle  the    wall    with    your  blood?   will   you 
feed  those  flames  with  your  flesh  ?  will  you  add  your 
voice   to  those   thundering  wails  ?  will  you  go  down 

a  prey  through  the  fiery  floor  of  the  chamber  of  death  ? 
Believe,  then,  the  word  of  God :  Her  house  is  the  loay  to 
Jiell,  going  doiun  to  the  chamhcrs  of  death;  ....  avoid 
it,  pass  not  hy  it,  ticrn  from  it,  and  joass  aicay  ! 

1  have  described  the  strange  woman's  house  in  strong 
language,  and  it  needed  it.  If  your  taste  shrinks  from 
the  description,  so  does  mine.  Hell,  and  all  the  ways  of 
hell,  when  we  pierce  the  cheating  disguises  and  see  the 
truth,  are  terrible  and  trying  to  behold ;  and  if  men  would 
not  walk  there,  neither  would  we  pursue  their  steps,  to 
sound  the  alarm  and  gather  back  whom  we  can. 

Allow  me  to  close  by  directing  your  attention  to  a 
few  points  of  especial  danger. 


154  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG   MEN. 

I.  I  solemnly  warn  yon  against  indulging  a  morbid 
imagination.  In  that  busy  and  mischievous  faculty 
begins  the  evil.  AVere  it  not  for  his  airy  imaginations, 
man  might  stand  his  own  master,  not  overmatched 
by  the  worst  part  of  himself.  But  ah  !  these  summer 
reveries,  these  venturesome  dreams,  these  fairy  castles, 
builded  for  no  good  purposes,  —  they  are  haunted  by 
impure  spirits,  who  will  fascinate,  bewitch,  and  corrupt 
you.  Blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart.  Blessed  art  thou, 
most  favored  of  God,  whose  thoughts  are  chastened, 
whose  imagination  will  not  breathe  or  fly  in  tainted 
air,  and  whose  path  hath  been  measured  by  the  golden 
reed  of  Purity. 

May  I  not  paint  Purity  as  a  saintly  virgin  in  spot- 
less white,  walking  with  open  face  in  an  air  so  clear 
that  no  vapor  can  stain  it  ? 

**  Upon  her  lightning-brow  love  proudly  sitting, 
Flames  out  in  power,  shines  out  in  majesty." 

Her  steps  are  a  queen's  steps.  God  is  her  father,  and- 
thou  her  brother,  if  thou  wilt  make  her  thine.  Let 
thy  heart  be  her  dwelling;  wear  upon  thy  hand  her 
ring,  and  on  thy  breast  her  talisman. 

II.  Next  to  evil  imaginations,  I  warn  the  young  of 
evil  companions.  Decaying  fruit  corrupts  the  neigh- 
boring fruit.  You  cannot  make  your  head  a  metropolis 
of  base  stories,  the  ear  and  tongue  a  highway  of  im- 
modest words,  and  yet  be  pure.  Another,  as  well  as 
yourself,  may  throw  a  spark  on  the  magazine  of  your 
passions ;  beware  how  your  companions  do  it.  No 
man  is  your  friend  who  will  corrupt  you.  An  impure 
man  is  every  good  man's  enemy,  —  your  deadly  foe ; 


THE   STRANGE   WO:\rAX.  155 

and  all  the  "^orse,  if  he  hide  his  poisoned  dagger  under 
the  cloak  of  good  fellowship.  Therefore,  select  your 
associates,  assort  them,  winnow  them,  keep  the  grain, 
and  let  the  wind  sweep  away  the  chaff. 

III.  But  I  warn  you,  with  yet  more  solemn  em- 
phasis, against  evil  books  and  evil  pictuees.  There 
is  in  every  town  an  undercurrent  which  glides  beneath 
our  feet,  unsuspected  by  the  pure  ;  out  of  which,  not- 
withstanding, our  sons  scooj)  many  a  goblet.  Books 
are  hidden  in  trunks,  concealed  in  dark  holes;  pic- 
tures are  stored  in  sly  portfolios,  or  trafficked  from 
hand  to  hand ;  and  the  handiwork  of  depraved  art 
is  seen  in  other  forms  which  ought  to  make  a  harlot 
blush. 

I  should  tliink  a  man  would  loathe  himself,  and  wake 
up  from  owning  such  things  as  from  a  horrible  night- 
mare. Those  who  circulate  them  are  incendiaries  of 
morality ;  those  who  make  them  ec|ual  the  worst  public 
criminals.  A  pure  heart  would  shrink  from  these 
abominable  things  as  from  death.  France,  where 
religion  long  ago  went  out  smothered  in  licentiousness, 
has  flooded  the  w^orld  with  a  species  of  literature  red- 
olent of  depravity.  Upon  the  plea  of  exhibiting  nature 
and  man,  novels  are  now  scooped  out  of  the  very  lava 
of  corrupt  passions.  They  are  true  to  nature,  but  to 
nature  as  it  exists  in  knaves  and  courtesans.  Under  a 
plea  of  humanity,  we  have  shown  up  to  us  troops  of 
harlots,  to  prove  that  they  are  not  so  bad  as  purists 
think ;  gangs  of  desperadoes,  to  show  that  there  is 
nothing  in  crime  inconsistent  with  the  noblest  feelings. 
AVe  have  in  French  and  English  novels  of  the  infernal 
school   humane  murderers,  lascivious  saints,  holy  in- 


156  LECTURES   TO   YOUKG   MEN. 

fidels,  honest  robbers.  These  artists  never  seem  lost, 
except  when  straining  rifter  a  conception  of  religion. 
Their  devotion  is  such  as  miglit  be  expected  from 
thieves  in  the  purlieus  of  thrice-deformed  vice.  Ex- 
hausted libertines  are  our  professors  of  morality.  They 
scrape  the  very  sediment  and  muck  of  society  to  mould 
their  creatures  ;  and  their  volumes  are  monster-galleries 
in  which  the  inhabitants  of  old  Sodom  would  have  felt 
at  home  as  connoisseurs  and  critics.  Over  loathsome 
women  and  unutterably  vile  men,  huddled  together  in 
motley  groups,  and  over  all  their  monstrous  deeds,  — 
their  lies,  their  plots,  their  crimes,  tlieir  dreadful 
pleasures,  their  glorying  conversation,  —  is  throAvn  the 
checkered  light  of  a  hot  imagination,  until  they  glow 
with  an  infernal  lustre.  Novels  of  the  French  school 
and  of  English  imitators  are  the  common  sewers  of 
society,  into  which  drain  the  concentrated  filth  of  the 
worst  passions,  of  the  worst  creatures,  of  the  worst 
cities.  Such  novels  come  to  us  impudently  pretending 
to  be  reformers  of  morals  and  liberalizers  of  religion ; 
they  propose  to  instruct  our  laws,  and  teach  a  discreet 
humanity  to  justice  The  Ten  Plagues  have  visited 
our  literature ;  water  is  turned  to  blood ;  frogs  and  lice 
creep  and  hop  over  our  most  familiar  things,  —  the 
couch,  the  cradle,  and  the  bread-trough ;  locusts,  mur- 
rain, and  fire  are  smiting  every  green  thing.  I  am 
ashamed  and  outraged  when  I  think  that  wretches 
could  be  found  to  open  these  foreign  seals  and  let  out 
tlieir  plagues  upon  us  ;  tliat  any  Satanic  pilgrim  should 
voyage  to  France  to  dip  from  the  dead  sea  of  her 
abomination  a  baptism  for  our  sons.  It  were  a  mercy, 
to  this,  to  import  serpents  from  Africa  and  pour  thera 


THE    STKANGE   WOMAN.  157 

out  on  our  prairies ;  lions  from  Asia,  and  free  them  in 
our  forests ;  lizards  and  scorpions  and  black  tarantulas 
from  the  Indies,  and  put  them  in  our  gardens.  Men 
could  slay  these,  but  those  offspring  reptiles  of  the 
French  mind,  who  can  kill  these  ?  You  might  as  well 
draw  sword  on  a  plague,  or  charge  a  malaria  with  the 
bayonet.  This  black-lettered  literature  circulates  in 
this  town,  floats  in  our  stores,  nestles  in  the  shops,  is 
fingered  and  read  nightly,  and  hatches  in  the  young 
mind  broods  of  salacious  thoughts.  While  the  parent 
strives  to  infuse  Christian  purity  into  his  child's  heart, 
he  is  anticipated  by  most  accursed  messengers  of  evil ; 
and  the  heart  hisses  already  like  a  nest  of  young  and 
nimble  vipers. 

TV.  Once  more,  let  me  persuade  you  that  no  ex- 
amples in  higli  places  can  justify  imitation  in  low 
places.  Your  purity  is  too  precious  to  be  bartered 
because  an  ofiicial  knave  tempts  by  his  example.  I 
would  that  every  eminent  place  of  state  were  a  sphere 
of  light,  from  which  should  be  flung  down  on  your 
path  a  cheering  glow  to  guide  you  on  to  virtue.  But 
if  these  wandering  stars,  reserved,  I  do  believe,  for  final 
blackness  of  darkness,  wheel  their  malign  spheres  in 
the  orbits  of  corruption,  go  not  after  them.  God  is 
greater  than  wicked  gi^eat  men ;  heaven  is  higher  than 
the  highest  places  of  nations ;  and  if  God  and  heaven 
are  not  brighter  to  your  eyes  than  great  men  in  high 
places,  then  you  must  take  part  in  their  doom,  when, 
erelong,  God  shall  dash  them  to  pieces. 

V.  Let  me  beseech  you,  lastly,  to  guard  your  heart- 
purity.  Xever  lose  it ;  if  it  be  gone,  you  have  lost  from 
the  casket  the  mo.st  precious  gift  of  God.     The  first 


158  LECTUEES  TO  YOUNG   MEN. 

purity  of  imagination,  of  thought,  and  of  feeling,  if 
soiled,  can  be  cleansed  by  no  fuller's  soap ;  if  lost,  can- 
not be  found,  though  sought  carefully  with  tears.  If  a 
harp  be  broken,  art  may  repair  it ;  if  a  light  be  quenched, 
the  flame  may  enkindle  it ;  but  if  a  flower  be  crushed, 
what  art  can  repair  it  ?  if  an  odor  be  wafted  away, 
who  can  collect  or  bring  it  back  ? 

The  heart  of  youth  is  a  wide  prairie.  Over  it  hang 
the  clouds  of  heaven  to  water  it ;  the  sun  throws  its 
broad  sheets  of  light  upon  it,  to  wake  its  life  ;  out  of  its 
bosom  spring,  the  long  season  through,  flowers  of  a 
hundred  names  and  hues,  twining  together  their  lovely 
forms,  wafting  to  each  other  a  grateful  odor,  and  nod- 
ding each  to  each  in  the  summer  breeze.  0,  such 
'would  man  be,  did  he  hold  that  purity  of  heart  which 
God  gave  him  !  But  you  have  a  depraved  heart.  It 
is  a  vast  continent;  on  it  are  mountain-ranges  of  pow- 
ers, and  dark,  deep  streams,  and  pools,  and  morasses.  If 
once  the  fuU  and  terrible  clouds  of  temptation  do  settle 
thick  and  fixedly  upon  you,  and  begin  to  cast  down 
their  dreadful  stores,  may  God  save  whom  man  can 
never  !  Then  the  heart  shall  feel  tides  and  streams  of 
irresistible  power  marking  its  control,  and  hurrying 
fiercely  down  from  steep  to  steep  with  growing  desola- 
tion. Your  only  resource  is  to  avoid  the  uprising  of 
your  giant  passions. 

We  are  drawing  near  to  a  festival  day,*  by  the  usage 
of  ages  consecrated  to  celebrate  the  birth  of  Christ.  At 
his  advent,  God  hung  out  a  prophet-star  in  the  heaven ; 
guided  by  it,  the  wise  men  journeyed  from  the  East  and 
worshiped  at  his  feet.     0,  let  the  star  of  Purity  hang 

*  This  lecture  was  delivered  upon  Christmas  eve. 


THE   STRAXGE   WOMAN. 


159 


out  to  thine  eye  brighter  than  the  Orient  orb  to  the 
Magi ;  let  it  lead  thee,  not  to  the  Babe,  but  to  His  feet 
who  now  stands  in  heaven,  a  Prince  and  Saviour !  If 
thou  hast  sinned,  one  look,  one  touch,  shall  cleanse  thee 
whilst  thou  art  worshiping,  and  thou  shalt  rise  up 
healed. 


n 


VII. 


POPULAR    AMUSEMENTS. 

EeJOICE,  0  YOUNG  MAN,  IN  THY  YOUTH,  AND  LET  THY  HEART 
CHEER  THEE  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  THY  YOUTH,  AND  WALK  IN  THE 
WAYS  OF  THINE  HEART,  AND  IN  THE  SIGHT  OF  THINE  EYES  ;  BUT 
KNOW  THOU,  THAT  FOR  ALL  THESE  THINGS  GOD  WILL  BRING  THEE 
INTO  JUDGMENT." — Eccl.  xi.  9. 


AM  to  venture  the  delicate  task  of  repre- 
hension, always  unwelcome,  but  peculiarly 
offensive  upon  topics  of  public  popular 
amusement.  I  am  anxious,  in  the  begin- 
ning, to  put  myself  right  with  the  young.  If  I  satisfy 
myself,  Christian  men,  and  the  sober  community,  and 
do  not  satisfy  them,  my  success  will  be  like  a  physician's 
wiiose  prescriptions  please  himself  and  the  relations, 
and  do  good  to  everybody  except  the  patient,  —  he 
dies. 

Allow  me,  first  of  all,  to  satisfy  you  that  I  am  not 
meddling  with  matters  which  do  not  concern  me.  This 
is  the  impression  which  the  patrons  and  partners  of 
criminal  amusements  study  to  make  upon  your  minds. 
Tliey  represent  our  duty  to  be  in  the  church,  taking 
care  of  doctrines  and  of  our  own  members.  When 
more  than  tliis  is  attempted,  when  we  speak  a  word  for 
you  who  are  not  church-members,  we  are  met  with  the 


POPULAR   AMUSEMENTS.  161 

surly  answer,  ''  Why  do  you  meddle  with  things  which 
don't  concern  you  ?  If  you  do  not  enjoy  these  pleas- 
ures, why  do  you  molest  those  who  do  ?  May  not  men 
do  as  they  please  in  a  free  country,  without  being  hung 
up  in  a  gibbet  of  public  remark  ? "  It  is  conveniently 
forgotten,  I  suppose,  that  in  a  free  country  we  have  the 
same  right  to  criticise  pleasure  which  others  have  to 
enjoy  it.  Indeed,  you  and  I  both  know,  young  gentle- 
men, that  in  coffee-house  circles,  and  in  convivial  feasts 
nocturnal,  the  Church  is  regarded  as  little  better  than  a 
spectacled  old  beldam,  whose  impertinent  eyes  are  spy- 
ing everybody's  business  but  her  own;  and  who,  too 
old  or  too  homely  to  be  tempted  herself  with  compul- 
sory virtue,  pouts  at  the  joyous  dalliances  of  the  young 
and  gay,  EeHgion  is  called  a  nun,  sable  with  gloomy 
vestments  ;  and  the  Church  a  cloister,  where  ignorance 
is  deemed  innocence,  and  which  sends  out  querulous 
reprehensions  of  a  world  which  it  knows  nothing  about, 
and  has  professedly  abandoned.  This  is  pretty,  and  is 
only  defective  in  not  being  true.  The  Church  is  not  a 
cloister,  nor  her  members  recluses,  nor  are  our  censures 
of  vice  intermeddling.  ISTot  to  dwell  in  generalities,  let 
us  take  a  plain  and  common  case. 

A  strolling  company  offer  to  educate  our  youth,  and 
to  show  the  community  the  road  of  morality,  which, 
probably,  they  have  not  seen  themselves  for  twenty 
years.  AVe  cannot  help  laughing  at  a  generosity  so 
much  above  one's  means  :  and  when  tliey  proceed  to 
hew  and  hack  eacli  other  with  rusty  iron  to  teach  our 
boys  valor,  and  dress  up  practical  mountebanks  to 
teach  theoretical  virtue,  if  we  laugh  somewliat  more 
they  turn  upon  us  testily:  Do  you  mind  your  own  husi- 


162  LECTURES  TO   YOUNG  MEN. 

71CSS,  and  leave  its  luitli  ours.  We  do  not  interfere  with 
your  ]jrcacliing,  do  you  let  alone  our  acting. 

But,  softly;  may  not  religious  people  amuse  them- 
selves with  very  diverting  men  ?  I  hope  it  is  not 
bigotry  to  have  eyes  and  ears.  I  hope  it  is  not 
fanaticism,  in  the  use  of  these  excellent  senses,  for  us 
to  judge  that  throwing  one's  heels  higher  than  their 
head,  a  dancing,  is  not  exactly  the  way  to  teach  virtue 
to  our  daughters ;  and  that  women,  whose  genial  warmth 
of  temperament  has  led  them  into  a  generosity  some- 
thing too  great,  are  not  the  persons  to  teach  virtue,  at 
any  rate.  0  no,  we  are  told.  Christians  must  not  know 
that  all  this  is  very  singular.  Christians  ought  to  think 
that  men  who  are  kings  and  dukes  and  philosophers 
on  the  stage  are  virtuous  men,  even  if  they  gamble  at 
night  and  are  drunk  all  day ;  and  if  men  are  so  used  to 
comedy  that  their  life  becomes  a  perpetual  farce  on 
morality,  we  have  no  right  to  laugh  at  this  extra  profes- 
sional acting. 

Are  toe  meddlers  who  only  seek  the  good  of  our  own 
families,  and  of  our  own  community  where  we  live  and 
expect  to  die  ;  or  tliey,  who  wander  up  and  down  with- 
out ties  of  social  connection,  and  without  aim,  except  of 
money  to  be  gathered  off  from  men's  vices  ? 

I  am  anxious  to  put  all  religious  men  in  their  right 
position  before  you  ;  and  in  this  controversy  between 
them  and  the  gay  world  to  show  you  the  facts  upon 
both  sides.  A  floating  population,  in  pairs  or  compa- 
nies, without  leave  asked,  blow  the  trumpet  for  all  our 
youth  to  flock  to  their  banners.  Are  they  related  to 
them  ?  Are  they  concerned  in  the  welfare  of  our  town  ? 
Do  they  live  among  us  ?    Do  they  bear  any  part  of  our 


POPULAR   AMUSEMENTS.  163 

burdens  ?  Do  they  care  for  our  substantial  citizens  ? 
"VYe  grade  our  streets,  build  our  schools,  support  all  our 
municipal  laws,  and  the  young  men  are  ours, — our  sons, 
our  brothers,  our  wards,  clerks,  or  apprentices  ;  they  are 
living  in  our  houses,  our  stores,  our  shops,  and  we  are 
their  guardians,  and  take  care  of  them  in  health  and 
watch  them  in  sickness,  —  yet  every  vagabond  who  floats 
in  hither  swears  and  swaggers  as  if  they  were  all  his  ; 
and  when  they  offer  to  corrupt  all  these  youth,  we 
pa}dng  them  round  sums  of  money  for  it,  and  we 
get  courage  finally  to  say  that  we  had  rather  not,  that 
industry  and  honesty  are  better  than  expert  knavery,  — 
they  turn  upon  us  in  great  indignation  with,  Wluj  don't 
you  mind  your  own  husiness  ?  What  are  you  meddling 
tvitJi  our  affairs  for  ? 

I  will  suppose  a  case.  "With  much  painstaking  I 
have  saved  enough  money  to  buy  a  little  garden-spot. 
I  put  all  around  it  a  good  fence ;  I  put  the  spade  into  it 
and  mellow  the  soil  full  deep  ;  I  go  to  the  nursery  and 
pick  out  choice  fruit  trees  :  I  send  abroad  and  select 
the  best  seeds  of  the  rarest  vegetables  ;  and  so  my  gar- 
den thrives.  I  know  every  inch  of  it,  for  I  have  watered 
every  inch  with  sweat.  One  morning  I  am  awakened 
by  a  mixed  sound  of  sawing,  digging,  and  delving  ;  and, 
looking  out,  I  see  a  dozen  men  at  work  in  my  garden. 
I  run  down  and  find  one  man  sawing  out  a  huge  hole  in 
the  fence.  "  My  dear  sir,  what  are  you  doing  ?  "  "  0, 
this  high  fence  is  very  troublesome  to  climb  over ;  I  am 
fixing  an  easier  way  for  folks  to  get  in."  Anotlier  man 
has  headed  down  several  choice  trees,  and  is  putting  in 
new  grafts.  "  Sir,  what  are  you  changing  the  kind  for  ? " 
"  0,  this  kind  don't  suit  me  ;  I  like  a  new  kind."     One 


1G4  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG   MEN. 

man  is  digging  up  my  beans  to  plant  cockles  ;  another 
is  rooting  up  my  strawberries  to  put  in  purslane  ;  and 
another  is  destroying  my  currants  and  gooseberries 
and  raspberries  to  plant  mustard  and  Jamestown  weed. 
At  last  I  lose  all  patience  and  cry  out,  "  Well,  gentlemen, 
this  will  never  do.  I  will  never  tolerate  this  abom- 
inable imposition ;  you  are  ruining  my  garden."  One 
of  them  says,  "  You  old  hypocritical  bigot,  do  mind 
your  business,  and  let  us  enjoy  ourselves !  Take  care  of 
your  house,  and  do  not  pry  into  our  pleasures." 

Fellow-citizens,  I  own  that  no  man  could  so  invade 
your  garden,  but  men  are  allowed  thus  to  invade  our 
town  and  destroy  our  children.  You  will  let  them 
evade  your  laws  to  fleece  and  demoralize  you  ;  and  you 
sit  down  under  their  railing,  as  though  you  were  the  in- 
truders !  just  as  if  the  man  who  drives  a  thief  out  of 
his  house  ought  to  ask  the  rascal's  pardon  for  interfering 
with  his  little  plans  of  pleasure  and  profit. 

Every  parent  has  a  right,  every  citizen  and  every 
minister  has  the  same  right,  to  expose  traps,  which 
men  have  to  set  them ;  the  same  right  to  prevent 
mischief,  which  men  have  to  plot  it ;  the  same  right  to 
attack  vice,  which  vice  has  to  attack  virtue,  —  a  better 
right  to  save  our  sons  and  brothers  and  companions, 
than  artful  men  have  to  destroy  them. 

The  necessity  of  amusement  is  admitted  on  all  hands. 
There  is  an  appetite  of  the  eye,  of  the  ear,  and  of  every 
sense,  for  wliich  God  has  provided  the  material.  Gayety 
of  every  degree,  this  side  of  puerile  levity,  is  whole- 
some to  the  body,  to  the  mind,  and  to  the  morals. 
Kature  is  a  vast  repository  of  manly  enjoyments.  The 
magnitude  of  God's  works  is  not  less  admirable  than  its 


POrULAR    AMUSEMENTS.  165 

exhilarating  beauty.  The  rudest  forms  have  something 
of  beauty,  the  ruggedest  strength  is  graced  with  some 
charm,  the  very  pins  and  rivets  and  clasps  of  nature 
are  attractive  by  qualities  of  beauty  more  than  is  neces- 
sary for  mere  utility.  The  sun  could  go  down  without 
gorgeous  clouds,  evening  could  advance  without  its 
evanescent  brilliance,  trees  might  have  flourished  with- 
out symmetry,  flo\\'ers  have  existed  without  odor,  and 
fruit  without  flavor.  AVhen  I  have  journeyed  through 
forests  where  ten  thousand  shrubs  and  vines  exist 
without  apparent  use,  through  prairies  whose  undula- 
tions exhibit  sheets  of  flowers  innumerable,  and  abso- 
lutely dazzling  the  eye  with  their  prodigality  of  beauty, 
—  beauty  not  a  tithe  of  which  is  ever  seen  by  man,  — 
I  have  said,  it  is  plain  that  God  is  himself  passionately 
fond  of  beauty,  and  the  earth  is  his  garden,  as  an  acre 
is  man's.  God  has  made  us  like  himself,  to  be  pleased 
by  the  universal  beauty  of  the  world.  He  has  made 
provision  in  nature,  in  society,  and  in  the  family,  for 
amusement  and  exhilaration  enough  to  fill  the  heart 
with  the  perpetual  sunshine  of  delight. 

Upon  this  broad  earth,  purfled  with  flowers,  scented 
with  odors,  brilliant  in  colors,  vocal  with  echoing  and 
re-echoing  melody,  I  take  my  stand  against  all  demor- 
alizing pleasure.  Is  it  not  enough  that  our  Father's 
house  is  so  full  of  dear  delights,  that  we  must  wander 
prodigal  to  the  swineherd  for  husks,  and  to  tlie  slough 
for  drink  ?  When  the  trees  of  God's  heritai^e  bend 
over  our  head  and  solicit  our  hand  to  pluck  the  golden 
fruitage,  must  we  still  go  in  search  of  the  apples  of 
Sodom,  outside  fair  and  inside  ashes  ? 

Men  shall  crowd  to  tlie  circus  to  hear  clowns  and 


166  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG   MEN. 

see  rare  feats  of  liorsemanshij) ;  but  a  bird  may  poise 
beneath  the  very  sun,  or,  flying  downward,  swooj)  from 
the  high  heaven,  then  flit  with  graceful  ease  hither  and 
tliither,  pouring  liquid  song  as  if  it  were  a  perennial 
fountain  of  sound,  —  no  man  cares  for  that. 

Upon  the  stage  of  life  the  vastest  tragedies  are  per- 
forming in  every  act,  —  nations  pitching  headlong  to 
their  final  catastrophe,  others  raising  their  youthful 
forms  to  begin  the  drama  of  their  existence.  Tlie  world 
of  society  is  as  full  of  exciting  interest  as  nature  is  full 
of  beauty.  The  great  dramatic  throng  of  life  is  hustling 
along,  —  the  wise,  the  fool,  the  clown,  the  miser,  the 
bereaved,  the  broken-hearted.  Life  mingles  before  us 
smiles  and  tears,  sighs  and  laughter,  joy  and  gloom,  as 
the  spring  mingles  the  winter  storm  and  summer  sun- 
shine. To  this  vast  theater  which  God  hath  builded, 
wdiere  stranger  plays  are  seen  than  ever  author  writ, 
man  seldom  cares  to  come.  When  God  dramatizes, 
wdien  nations  act,  or  all  the  human  kind  conspire  to 
educe  the  vast  catastrophe,  men  sleep  and  snore,  and 
let  the  busy  scene  go  on,  unlocked,  unthought  upon ; 
and  turn  from  all  its  varied  mas^nificence  to  hunt  out 
some  candle-lighted  hole  and  gaze  at  drunken  ranters, 
or  cry  at  the  piteous  virtue  of  harlots  in  distress.  It 
is  my  object,  then,  not  to  withdraw  the  young  from 
pleasure,  but  from  unworthy  pleasures ;  not  to  lessen 
their  enjoyments,  but  to  increase  them  by  rejecting  the 
counterfeit  and  the  vile. 

Of  gambling  I  have  already  sufficiently  spoken.  Of 
cock-fighting,  bear-baiting,  and  pugilistic  contests  I 
need  to  speak  but  little.  Tliese  are  the  desperate  ex- 
citements of  debauched  men;   but  no  man  becomes 


POPULAR   AMUSEMENTS.  167 

desperately  criminal  until  lie  lias  been  genteelly  crim- 
inal. No  one  spreads  his  sail  upon  such  waters  at 
first ;  these  brutal  amusements  are  but  the  gulf  into 
which  flow  all  the  streams  of  criminal  pleasures,  and 
they  who  embark  upon  the  river  are  sailing  toward 
the  gulf.  Wretches  who  have  waded  all  the  depths  of 
iniquity  and  burned  every  passion  to  the  socket,  find 
in  rage  and  blows  and  blood  the  only  stimulus  of  which 
they  are  susceptible.  You  are  training  yourselves  to 
be  just  such  wretches,  if  you  are  exhausting  your  pas- 
sions in  illicit  indulgences. 

As  it  is  impossible  to  analyze  separately  each  vicious 
amusement  proffered  to  the  young,  I  am  compelled  to 
select  two,  each  the  representative  of  a  clan.  Thus, 
the  reasonings  applied  to  the  amusement  of  racing 
apply  equally  well  to  all  violent  amusements  which 
congregate  indolent  and  dissipated  men  by  ministering 
intense  excitement.  The  reasonings  applied  to  the 
theater,  with  some  modifications,  apply  to  the  circus, 
to  promiscuous  balls,  to  night-reveling,  bacchanalian 
feasts,  and  to  other  similar  indulgences. 

^lany  who  are  not  in  danger  may  incline  to  turn 
from  these  pages ;  they  live  in  rural  districts,  in  vil- 
lages or  towns,  and  are  out  of  the  reach  of  jockeys 
and  actors  and  gamlders.  This  is  the  very  reason  why 
you  should  read.  \Ve  are  such  a  migratory,  restless 
people,  tliat  our  home  is  usually  everywhere  but  at 
home ;  and  almost  every  young  man  makes  annual  or 
biennial  visits  to  famous  cities,  conveying  produce  to 
market,  or  purchasing  wares  and  goods.  It  is  at  such 
times  that  the  young  are  in  extreme  danger,  for  they 
are  particularly  anxious,  at  such  times,  to  appear  at 


1G8  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG   MEN. 

their  full  age.  A  young  man  is  asliamed,  in  a  great 
hotel,  to  seem  raw  and  not  to  know  the  mysteries  of 
tlie  bar  and  of  the  toM'n.  They  put  on  a  very  remai'k- 
able  air,  which  is  meant  for  ease  ;  they  affect  profusion 
of  expense  ;  they  tliink  it  meet  for  a  gentleman  to  know 
all  that  certain  other  city  gentlemen  seem  proud  of 
knowinoj.  As  sober  citizens  are  not  found  lounoing:  at 
hotels,  and  the  gentlemanly  part  of  the  traveling  com- 
munity are  usually  retiring,  modest,  and  unnoticeable, 
the  young  are  left  to  come  in  contact  chiefly  with  a 
very  flash  class  of  men  who  swarm  about  city  restau- 
rants and  hotels,  swollen  clerks,  crack  sportsmen,  epi- 
cures, and  rich,  green  youth,  seasoning.  These  are  the 
most  numerous  class  which  engage  the  attention  of  the 
youDg.  They  bustle  in  the  sitting-room  or  crowd  the 
bar,  assume  the  chief  seats  at  the  table,  and  play  the 
petty  lord  in  a  manner  so  brilliant  as  altogether  to 
dazzle  our  poor  country  boy,  who  mourns  at  his 
deficient  education,  at  the  poverty  of  his  rural  oaths, 
and  the  meagerness  of  those  illicit  pleasures  which  he 
formerly  nibbled  at  with  mouse-like  stealth  ;  and  he 
sighs  for  these  riper  accomplishments.  Besides,  it  is 
well  known  tliat  large  commercial  establishments  have, 
residing  at  such  hotels,  well-appointed  clerks  to  draw 
customers  to  their  counter.  It  is  their  business  to 
make  your  acquaintance,  to  fish  out  the  probable  con- 
dition of  your  funds,  to  sweeten  your  temper  with 
delicate  tidbits  of  pleasure ;  to  take  you  to  the  theater, 
and  a  little  farther  on,  if  need  be ;  to  draw  you  in  to  a 
generous  supper,  and  initiate  you  to  the  high  life  of 
men  whose  whole  life  is  only  the  varied  phases  of  lust, 
gastronomical  or  amorous. 


POPULAR   AMUSEMENTS.  169 

Besides  these,  there  lurk  in  such  places  lynx-eyed 
procurers ;  men  who  have  an  interest  in  your  appetites, 
who  look  upon  a  young  man  with  some  money  just  as 
a  butcher  looks  upon  a  bullock,  —  a  thing  of  so  many 
pounds  avoirdupois,  of  so  much  beef,  so  much  tallow, 
and  a  hide.  If  you  have  nothing,  they  will  have 
nothing  to  do  with  you;  if  you  have  means,  they 
undertake  to  supply  you  with  the  disposition  to  use 
them.  They  know  the  city,  they  know  its  haunts, 
they  know  its  secret  doors,  its  blind  passages,  its  spicy 
pleasures,  its  racy  vices,  clear  down  to  the  mud-slime 
of  the  very  bottom. 

Meanwhile,  the  accustomed  restraint  of  home  cast 
off,  the  youth  feels  that  he  is  unknown,  and  may  do 
what  he  chooses,  unexposed.  There  is,  moreover,  an 
intense  curiosity  to  see  many  things  of  which  he  has 
long  ago  heard  and  wondered ;  and  it  is  the  very  art 
and  education  of  vice  to  make  itself  attractive.  It 
comes  with  garlands  of  roses  about  its  brow,  with  nectar 
in  its  goblet,  and  love  upon  its  tongue. 

If  you  have,  beforehand,  no  settled  opinions  as  to 
what  is  right  and  what  is  wrong  ;  if  your  judgment 
is  now,  for  the  first  time,  to  be  formed  upon  the 
propriety  of  your  actions ;  if  you  are  not  controlled 
by  settled  irrinciples,  there  is  scarcely  a  chance  for  your 
purity: 

For  this  purpose,  then,  I  desire  to  discuss  these 
things,  that  you  may  settle  your  opinions  and  princi- 
ples before  temptation  assails  you.  As  a  ship  is  built 
upon  the  dry  shore,  which  afterwards  is  to  dare  the 
storm  and  brave  the  sea,  so  would  I  build  you  stanch 
and  strong  ere  you  be  launched  abroad  upon  life. 

8 


170  LECTURES   TO  YOUNG  MEX. 

I.  Eacixg.  —  This  amusement  justifies  its  existence 
by  the  i^lea  of  utility.  We  will  examine  it  upon 
its  own  ground.  AYho  are  the  patrons  of  the  turf  ?  — 
farmers,  laborers,  men  who  are  practically  the  most 
interested  in  the  improvement  of  stock  ?  The  unerr- 
ing instinct  of  self-interest  would  lead  these  men  to 
patronize  the  course  if  its  utility  were  real.  It  is 
notorious  that  these  are  not  the  patrons  of  racing.  It 
is  sustained  by  two  classes  of  men,  gambling  jockeys 
and  jaded  rich  men.  In  England,  and  in  our  own 
country,  where  the  turf  sports  are  freshest,  they  owe 
their  existence  entirely  to  the  extraordinary  excitement 
which  they  afford  to  dissipation  or  to  cloyed  appetites. 
Tor  those  industrial  purposes  for  which  the  horse  is 
chiefly  valuable,  for  roadsters,  hacks,  and  cart-horses, 
what  do  the  patrons  of  the  turf  care  ?  Their  whole 
anxiety  is  centered  upon  winning  cups  and  stakes  ;  and 
that  is  incomparably  the  best  blood  which  will  run 
the  longest  space  in  the  shortest  time.  The  points  re- 
quired for  this  are  not,  and  never  will  be,  the  points  for 
substantial  service.  And  it  is  notorious  that  racing: 
in  England  deteriorated  the  stock  in  such  important 
respects,  that  the  light  cavalry  and  dragoon  service 
suffered  severely,  until  dependence  upon  turf  stables 
was  abandoned.  New  England,  where  racing  is  un- 
known, is  to  this  day  the  place  where  tlie  horse  exists 
in  the  finest  qualities  ;  and,  for  all  economical  purposes, 
Virginia  and  Kentucky  must  yield  to  New  England. 
Except  for  the  sole  purpose  of  racing,  an  Eastern  horse 
brings  a  higher  price  than  any  other. 

The  other  class  of  patrons  who  sustain  a  course  are 
mere  gambling  jockeys.     As  crows  to  a  cornfield  or 


POPULAR  AMUSEMENTS.  171 

vultures  to  their  prey,  as  flies  to  summer-sweet,  so  to 
the  annual  races  flow  the  whole  tribe  of  gamesters  and 
pleasure-lovers.  It  is  the  Jerusalem  of  wicked  men  ; 
and  thither  the  tribes  go  up,  like  Israel  of  old,  but  for  a 
far  different  sacrifice,  ^o  form  of  social  abomination  is 
unkno^\m  or  unpracticed ;  and  if  all  the  good  that  is 
claimed,  and  a  hundred  times  more,  were  done  to 
horses,  it  would  be  a  dear  bargain.  To  ruin  men  for 
the  sake  of  improving  horses,  to  sacrifice  conscience 
and  purity  for  the  sake  of  good  bones  and  muscles  in  a 
beast,  —  this  is  paying  a  little  too  much  for  good  brutes. 
Indeed,  the  shameless  immorality,  the  perpetual  and 
gi'owing  dishonesty,  the  almost  immeasurable  secret 
villainy  of  gentlemen  of  the  turf,  has  alarmed  and  dis- 
gusted many  stalwart  racers,  who,  having  no  objection 
to  some  evil,  are  appalled  at  tlie  very  ocean  of  depravity 
which  rolls  before  them.  I  extract  the  w^ords  of  one  of 
the  leading  sportsmen  of  England :  "  How  many  fine 
domains  have  been  shared  among  these  hosts  of  rapacious 
sharks  during  the  last  two  hundred  years  ;  and,  unless 
the  system  he  altered,  how  many  more  arc  doomed  tp  fall 
into  the  same  gidf  !  For,  we  lament  to  say,  the  eril  has 
increased ;  all  heretofore  has  been  '  TARTS  AND  CHEESE- 
CAKES '  to  the  villainous  ly'^^ocecdings  of  the  last  twenty 
years  on  the  English  turfy 

I  will  drop  this  barbarous  amusement  with  a  few 
questions. 

What  have  you,  young  men,  to  do  with  the  turf,  ad- 
mitting it  to  be  what  it  claims,  a  school  for  horses  .?  Are 
you  particularly  interested  in  that  branch  of  learning  ? 

Is  it  safe  to  accustom  yourselves  to  such  tremendous 
excitement  as  tliat  of  racing  ?  __ 


172  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG  MEN. 

Is  the  invariable  company  of  such  places  of  a  kind 
whicli  you  ought  to  be  found  in  ?  Will  races  make 
you  more  moral,  more  industrious,  more  careful,  eco- 
nomical, trustworthy  ? 

You  who  have  attended  them,  what  advice  would  you 
give  a  young  man  —  a  younger  brother,  for  instance  — 
who  should  seriously  ask  if  he  had  better  attend  ? 

I  digress  to  say  one  word  to  women.  When  a  course 
was  opened  at  Cincinnati,  ladies  would  not  attend  it ; 
when  one  was  opened  here,  ladies  would  not  attend  it. 
For  very  good  reasons,  —  they  were  ladies.  If  it  be 
said  that  they  attend  the  races  at  the  South  and  in 
England,  I  reply,  that  they  do  a  great  many  other 
things  which  you  would  not  choose  to  do. 

Eoman  ladies  could  see  hundreds  of  gladiators  stab 
and  hack  each  other ;  could  you  ?  Spanish  ladies  can 
see  savage  bull-fights ;  would  you  ?  It  is  possible  for 
a  modest  woman  to  countenance  very  questionable 
practices,  where  the  customs  of  society  and  the  univer- 
sal public  opinion  approve  them.  But  no  woman  can 
set  herself  against  public  opinion,  in  favor  of  an  im- 
moral sport,  without  being  herself  immoral;  for,  if 
worse  be  wanting,  it  is  immorality  enough  for  a  woman 
to  put  herself  w^here  her  reputation  will  lose  its  sus- 
piciousless  luster. 

^  II.  The  Theater.  —  Desperate  efforts  are  made,' 
year  by  year,  to  resuscitate  this  expiring  evil.  Its  claims 
are  put  forth  with  vehemence.     Let  us  examine  them. 

The  drama  cultivates  the  taste.  Let  the  appeal  be  to 
facts.  Let  the  roll  of  English  literature  be  explored,  — 
our  poets,  romancers,  historians,  essayists,  critics,  and 
divines,  —  and  for  what  part  of  their  memorable  writ- 


POPULAR   AMUSEMENTS.  173 

ings  are  we  indebted  to  the  drama  ?  If  we  except  one 
period  of  our  literature,  the  claim  is  wholly  groundless ; 
and  at  this  day  the  truth  is  so  opposite  to  the  claim 
that  extravagance,  affectation,  and  rant  are  proverbially 
denominated  theatrical.  If  agriculture  should  attempt 
to  supersede  the  admirable  implements  of  husbandry 
now  in  use  by  the  primitive  plow  or  sharpened 
sticks,  it  would  not  be  more  absurd  than  to  advocate 
that  clumsy  machine  of  literature,  the  theater,  by  the 
side  of  the  popular  lecture,  the  pulpit,  and  the  press. 
It  is  not,  congenial  to  our  age  or  necessities.  Its  day  is 
gone  by ;  it  is  in  its  dotage,  as  might  be  suspected  from 
the  weakness  of  the  garrulous  apologies  which  it  puts 
forth. 

It  is  a  scJiool  of  morals.  Yes,  doubtless  !  So  the 
guillotine  is  defended  on  the  plea  of  humanity.  In- 
quisitors declare  their  racks  and  torture-beds  to  be  the 
instruments  of  love,  affectionately  admonishing  the 
fallen  of  the  error  of  their  ways.  The  slave-trade  has 
been  defended  on  the  plea  of  humanity,  and  slavery  is 
now  defended  for  its  mercies.  Were  it  necessary  for 
any  school  or  party,  doubtless  we  should  hear  arguments 
to  prove  the  Devil's  grace,  and  the  utility  of  his  agency 
among  men. 

But  let  me  settle  these  impudent  pretensions  to 
theater  virtue  by  the  home  thrust  of  a  few  23lain 
questions. 

AVill  any  of  you  who  have  been  to  theaters  please  to 
tell  me  whether  virtue  ever  received  important  acces- 
sions from  the  (jallcry  of  theaters  ? 

Will  you  tell  me  whether  the  pit  is  a  place  where  an 
ordinarily  modest  man  would  love  to  seat  his  children  ? 


174  LECTURES   TO    YOUNG   MEN. 

Was  ever  a  theater  known  where  a  prayer  at  the 
opening  and  a  prayer  at  the  close  would  not  be  tor- 
mentingly  discordant  ? 

How  does  it  happen  that  in  a  school  for  morals  the 
teachers  never  learn  their  own  lessons  ? 

Would  you  allow  a  son  or  daughter  to  associate  alone 
w^ith  actors  or  actresses  ? 

Do  these  men  who  promote  virtue  so  zealously,  ivhcn 
acting,  take  any  part  in  public  moral  enterprises  when 
their  stage  dresses  are  off  ? 

Which  would  surprise  you  most,  to  see  actors  steadily 
at  church  or  to  see  Christians  steadily  at  a  theater  ? 
Would  not  both  strike  you  as  singular  incongruities  ? 

What  is  the  reason  that  loose  and  abandoned  men 
abhor  religion  in  a  church  and  love  it  so  much  in  a 
theater  ? 

Since  the  theater  is  the  handmaid  of  virtue,  why  are 
drinking-houses  so  necessary  to  its  neighborhood,  yet  so 
offensive  to  churches  ?  The  trustees  of  the  Tremont 
Theater,  in  Boston,  publicly  protested  against  an  order 
of  council  forbidding  liquor  to  be  sold  on  the  premises, 
on  the  ground  that  it  was  impossible  to  support  the 
theater  without  it. 

I  am  told  that  Christians  do  attend  the  theaters. 
Then  I  will  tell  them  the  story  of  the  Ancients.  A 
lioly  monk  reproached  the  Devil  for  stealing  a  young 
man  who  was  found  at  the  theater.  He  promptly 
replied,  "  I  found  him  on  my  premises,  and  took  him." 

But,  it  is  said,  if  Christians  would  take  theaters  in 
hand,  instead  of  abandoning  them  to  loose  men,  they 
might  become  the  handmaids  of  religion. 

The  Church  has  Jiad  an  intimate  acquaintance  with 


POPULAR  AMUSEMENTS.  175 

the  theater  for  eighteen  hnndred  years.  During  that 
period  every  available  agent  for  the  diffusion  of  moral- 
ity has  been  earnestly  tried.  The  drama  has  been  tried. 
The  result  is  that  familiarity  has  bred  contempt  and 
abhorrence.  If,  after  so  long  and  thorough  an  acquaint- 
ance, the  Church  stands  the  mortal  enemy  of  theaters, 
the  testimony  is  conclusive.  It  is  the  evidence  of  gen- 
erations speaking  by  the  most  sober,  thinking,  and 
honest  men.  Let  not  this  vagabond  prostitute  pollute 
any  longer  the  precincts  of  the  Church  with  impudent 
proposals  of  alliance.  When  the  Church  needs  an 
alliance,  it  will  not  look  for  it  in  the  kennel.  Ah, 
what  a  blissful  scene  would  that  be,  the  Church  and 
Theater  imparadised  in  each  other's  arms !  AYhat  a 
sweet  conjunction  would  be  made,  could  we  build  our 
churches  so  as  to  preach  in  the  morning  and  play  in 
them  by  night.  And  how  melting  it  would  be,  beyond 
the  love  of  David  and  Jonathan,  to  see  minister  and 
actor  in  loving  embrace ;  one  slaying  Satan  by  direct 
thrusts  of  plain  preaching,  and  the  other  sucking  his 
very  life  out  by  the  enchantment  of  the  drama !  To 
this  millennial  scene  of  church  and  theater  I  only  sug- 
gest a  single  improvement :  that  the  vestry  be  enlarged 
to  a  ring  for  a  circus,  when  not  wanted  for  prayer-meet- 
ings ;  that  the  Sabbath-school  room  should  be  furnished 
with  card-tables,  and  useful  texts  of  Scripture  might  be 
printed  on  the  cards,  for  the  pious  meditations  of  gam- 
blers during  the  intervals  of  play  and  worship. 

Bat  if  these  places  are2^ut  doiv)i,  wxn  vnll  go  to  worse 
ones.  Where  will  they  find  worse  ones?  Are  those 
who  go  to  the  theater,  the  circus,  the  race-course,  the 
men  wlio  abstain  from  worse  places  ?     It  is  notorious 


176  LECTURES  TO   YOUNG  MEN. 

that  the  crowd  of  theater-goers  are  vomited  up  from 
these  worse  places.  It  is  notorious  that  the  theater  is 
the  door  to  all  the  sinks  of  iniquity.  It  is  through  this 
infamous  place  that  the  young  learn  to  love  those 
vicious  associates  and  practices  to  which  else  they 
would  have  been  strangers.  Half  the  victims  of  the 
gallow^s  and  of  the  penitentiary  will  tell  you  that  these 
schools  for  morals  were  to  them  tlie  gate  of  debauchery, 
the  porch  of  pollution,  the  vestibule  of  the  very  house 
of  death. 

The  drama  makes  one  acquainted  with  human  life 
and  icith  nature.  It  is  too  true.  There  is  scarcely  an 
evil  incident  to  human  life  which  may  not  be  fully 
learned  at  the  theater.  Here  flourishes  every  variety 
of  wit,  ridicule  of  sacred  things,  burlesques  of  religion, 
and  licentious  douUe-entcndres.  JSTo where  can  so  much 
of  this  lore  be  learned,  in  so  short  a  time,  as  at  the 
theater.  There  one  learns  how  pleasant  a  thing  is 
vice ;  amours  are  consecrated,  license  is  prospered,  and 
the  young  come  away  alive  to  the  glorious  liberty  of 
conquest  and  lust.  But  the  stage  is  not  the  only  place 
about  the  drama  where  human  nature  is  learned.  In 
the  boxes  the  young  may  make  the  acquaintance  of  those 
who  abhor  home  and  domestic  quiet ;  of  those  who 
glory  in  profusion  and  obtrusive  display ;  of  those  who 
expend  all,  and  more  than  their  earnings,  upon  gay 
clothes  and  jewelry ;  of  those  who  tliiidv  it  no  harm  to 
horroio  their  money  luithout  leave  from  their  employer's 
till ;  of  those  who  despise  vulgar  appetite,  but  affect 
j)olished  and  genteel  licentiousness.  Or  he  may  go  to 
the  pit,  and  learn  the  v/hole  round  of  villain  life  from 
masters  in  the  art.     He  may  sit  down  among  thieves, 


POPULAR   AMUSEMENTS.  177 

blood-loving  scoundrels,  swindlers,  broken-down  men 
of  pleasure,  —  the  coarse,  the  vulgar,  the  debauched, 
the  inhuman,  the  infernal.  Or,  if  still  more  of  human 
nature  is  wished,  he  can  learn  yet  more ;  for  the  theater 
epitomizes  every  degree  of  corruption.  Let  the  vir- 
tuous young  scholar  go  to  the  gallery,  and  learn  there 
decency,  modesty,  and  refinement,  among  the  quarrel- 
ing, drunken,  ogling,  mincing,  brutal  women  of  the 
brothel.  Ah,  there  is  no  place  like  the  theater  for 
learning  hmnan  nature  I  A  young  man  can  gather  up 
more  experimental  knowledge  here  in  a  week  than  else- 
where in  half  a  year.  But  I  wonder  that  the  drama 
should  ever  confess  the  fact ;  and,  yet  more,  that  it 
should  lustily  plead  in  self-defence  that  theaters  teach 
men  so  much  of  humcm  nature  I  Here  are  brilliant 
bars,  to  teach  the  young  to  drink ;  here  are  gay  com- 
panions, to  undo  in  half  an  hour  the  scruples  formed 
by  an  education  of  years ;  here  are  pimps  of  pleasure, 
to  delude  the  brain  with  bewildering  sophisms  of 
license ;  here  is  pleasure,  all  flushed  in  its  gayest, 
boldest,  most  fascinating  forms ;  and  few  there  be  who 
can  resist  its  wiles,  and  fewer  yet  who  can  yield  to 
them  and  escape  ruin.  If  you  would  pervert  the  taste, 
go  to  the  theater.  If  you  would  imbibe  false  views,  go 
to  the  theater.  If  you  would  efface  as  speedily  as  pos- 
sible all  qualms  of  conscience,  go  to  the  theater.  If 
you  would  put  yourself  irreconcilably  against  the  spirit 
of  virtue  and  religion,  go  to  the  theater.  If  you  would 
be  infected  wdth  each  particular  vice  in  the  catalogue 
of  depravity,  go  to  the  theater.  Let  parents  who  wish 
to  make  their  children  weary  of  home  and  quiet  do- 
mestic enjoyments,  take  them  to  the  theater.     If  it  be 

8*  L 


178  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG   MEN. 

desirable  for  tlie  young  to  loathe  industry  and  didactic 
reading,  and  burn  for  fierce  excitements,  and  seek  them 
by  stealtli  or  through  pilferings,  if  need  be,  then  send 
them  to  the  theater.  It  is  notorious  that  the  bill  of 
fare  at  these  temples  of  pleasure  is  made  up  to  the 
taste  of  the  lower  appetites ;  that  low  comedy,  and 
lower  farce,  running  into  absolute  obscenity,  are  the 
only  means  of  filling  a  house.  Theaters  which  should 
exhibit  nothing  but  the  classic  drama  would  exhibit  it 
to  empty  seats.  They  must  be  corrupt  to  live;  and 
those  who  attend  them  will  be  corrupted. 

Let  me  turn  your  attention  to  several  reasons  which 
should  incline  every  young  man  to  forswear  such 
criminal  amusements. 

I.  The  first  reason  is,  their  waste  of  time.  I  do  not 
mean  that  they  waste  only  the  time  consumed  while 
you  are  within  them ;  but  they  make  you  waste  your 
time  afterwards.  You  will  go  once,  and  wish  to  go 
again ;  you  wiU  go  twice,  and  seek  it  a  third  time ;  you 
will  go  a  third  time,  a  fourth ;  and  whenever  the  bill 
flames  you  wHl  be  seized  with  a  restlessness  and  crav- 
ing to  go,  until  the  appetite  will  become  a  j^^^^sion. 
You  will  then  waste  your  nights ;  your  mornings  being 
heavy,  melancholy,  and  stupid,  you  wdll  waste  them. 
Your  day  wiU.  next  be  confused  and  crowded,  your 
duties  poorly  executed  or  deferred;  habits  of  arrant 
shiftlessness  will  ensue,  and  day  by  day  industry  will 
grow  tiresome,  and  leisure  sweeter,  until  you  are  a 
waster  of  time,  an  idle  man ;  and  if  not  a  rogue,  you 
will  be  a  fortunate  exception. 

II.  You  ought  not  to  countenance  these  things, 
because  they  will  ivaste  i/our  money.     Young  gentlemen, 


POPULAR   AMUSEMENTS.  179 

squandering  is  as  shameful  as  hoarding.  A  fool  can 
throw  away,  and  a  fool  can  lock  up  ;  but  it  is  a  Avise 
man  who,  neither  parsimonious  nor  profuse,  steers  the 
middle  course  of  generous  economy  and  frugal  lib- 
erality. A  young  man  at  first  thinks  that  all  he 
spends  at  such  places  is  the  ticket  price  of  the  the- 
ater, or  tlie  small  bet  on  the  races ;  and  this  he  knows 
is  not  much.  But  this  is  certainly  not  the  whole  bill, 
nor  half. 

First,  you  pay  your  entrance.  But  there  are  a 
thousand  petty  luxuries  which  one  must  not  neglect, 
or  custom  will  call  him  niggard.  You  must  buy  your 
cigars  and  your  friend's.  You  must  buy  your  juleps, 
and  treat  in  your  turn.  You  must  occasionally  wait 
on  your  lady,  and  she  must  be  comforted  with  divers 
confections.  You  cannot  go  to  such  places  in  home- 
ly working  dress;  new  and  costlier  clothes  must  be 
bought.  All  your  companions  have  jewelry  ;  you  will 
want  a  ring,  or  a  seal,  or  a  golden  watch,  or  an  ebony 
cane,  a  silver  toothpick,  or  quizziug-glass.  Thus,  item 
presses  upon  item,  and  in  the  year  a  long  bill  runs  up 
of  money  spent  for  little  trifles. 

But  if  all  this  money  could  buy  you  off  from  the  yet 
\vorse  effects,  the  bargain  would  not  be  so  dear.  But 
compare,  if  you  please,  this  mode  of  expenditure  with 
the  principle  of  your  ordinary  expense.  In  all  ordinary 
and  business  transactions  you  get  an  cqitivaleni  for  your 
money,  either  food  for  support,  or  clothes  for  comlort, 
or  permanent  property.  But  Avhen  a  young  man  has 
spent  one  or  two  hundred  dollars  for  the  theater,  cir- 
cus, races,  balls,  and  reveling,  what  has  he  to  show 
for  it  at  the  end  of  the  year  ?     Nothing  at  all  good, 


180  LECTUKES   TO   YOUNG   MEN. 

and  mucli  that  is  bad.  You  sink  your  money  as  really 
as  if  3^ou  threw  it  into  the  sea ;  and  you  do  it  in  such 
a  way  that  you  form  habits  of  careless  expense.  You 
lose  all  sense  of  the  value  of  'property ;  and  when  a 
man  sees  no  value  in  property,  he  will  see  no  neces- 
sity for  labor ;  and  when  he  is  lazy  and  careless  of 
property,  both,  he  will  be  dishonest.  Thus,  a  habit 
which  seems  innocent  —  the  habit  of  triflino:  with 
property  —  often  degenerates  to  worthlessness,  indo- 
lence, and  roguery. 

III.  Such  pleasures  are  incomj)atible  wdth  your  ordi- 
nary pursuits. 

The  very  way  to  ruin  an  honest  business  is  to  be 
ashamed  of  it,  or  to  put  alongside  of  it  something  which 
a  man  loves  better.  There  can  be  no  industrial  calling 
so  exciting  as  the  theater,  the  circus,  and  the  races. 
If  you  wish  to  make  your  real  business  very  stupid 
and  hateful,  visit  such  places.  After  the  glare  of  the 
theater  has  dazzled  your  eyes,  your  blacksmith-shop 
will  look  smuttier  than  ever  it  did  before.  After  you 
have  seen  stalwart  heroes  pounding  their  antagonists, 
you  w^ill  find  it  a  dull  business  to  pound  iron ;  and  a 
valiant  apprentice  who  has  seen  such  gracious  glances 
of  love  and  such  rapturous  kissing  of  hands,  will  hate 
to  dirty  his  heroic  lingers  with  mortar,  or  by  rolling 
felt  on  the  hatter's  board.  If  a  man  had  a  homely,  but 
most  useful  wife,  —  patient,  kind,  intelligent,  hopeful 
in  sorrow,  and  cheerful  in  prosperity,  but  yet  very 
plain,  very  homely,  —  would  he  be  wise  to  bring  under 
his  roof  a  fascinating  and  artful  beauty  ?  Would  tlie 
contrast,  and  her  wiles,  make  him  love  his  own  wife 
better  ?     Young  gentlemen,  your  wives  are  your  in- 


POPULAR   AMUSEMENTS.  181 

dustrial  callings.  These  raree-shows  are  artful  jades, 
dressed  up  on  purpose  to  purloin  your  affections.  Let 
no  man  be  led  to  commit  adultery  with  a  theater, 
against  the  riolits  of  his  own  trade. 

IV.  Another  reason  why  you  should  let  alone  these 
deceitful  pleasures  is,  that  they  will  engage  you  in  Lad 
company.  To  the  theater,  the  ball,  the  circus,  the 
race-course,  the  gaming-table,  resort  all  the  idle,  the 
dissipated,  the  rogues,  the  licentious,  the  epicures, 
the  gluttons,  the  artful  jades,  the  immodest  prudes, 
the  joyous,  the  worthless,  the  refuse.  When  you  go, 
you  will  not,  at  first,  take  introduction  to  them  all,  but 
to  those  nearest  like  yourself ;  by  them  the  way  will  be 
opened  to  others.  And  a  very  great  evil  has  befallen 
a  young  man,  when  wicked  men  feel  that  they  have  a 
right  to  his  acquaintance.  When  I  see  a  gambler  slap- 
ping a  young  mechanic  on  the  back,  or  a  lecherous 
scoundrel  suffusing  a  young  man's  cheek  by  a  story  at 
which,  despite  his  blushes,  he  yet  laughs,  I  know  the 
youth  has  been  guilty  of  criminal  indiscretion,  or  these 
men  could  not  approach  him  thus.  That  is  a  brave 
and  strong  heart  that  can  stand  up  pure  in  a  company 
of  artful  wretches.  When  wicked  men  mean  to  seduce 
a  young  man,  so  tremendous  are  the  odds  in  favor  of 
practiced  experience  against  innocence,  that  there  is 
not  one  chance  in  a  tliousand,  if  the  young  man  lets 
them  approach  him.  Let  every  young  man  remember 
that  he  carries,  by  nature,  a  breast  of  passions  just  such 
as  had  men  have.  With  youth  they  slumber;  but 
temptation  can  wake  them,  bad  men  can  influence 
them ;  they  know  the  road,  they  know  how  to  serenade 
the  heart,  how  to  raise  the  sash,  and  elope  with  each 


182  LECTUEES   TO    YOUNG   MEN. 

passion.  There  is  but  one  resource  for  innocence 
among  men  or  women ;  and  that  is,  an  embargo  upon 
all  commerce  of  bad  men.  Bar  the  window,  —  bolt 
the  door;  nor  answer  their  strain,  if  they  charm 
never  so  wisely.  In  no  other  way  can  you  be  safe. 
So  well  am  I  assured  of  the  power  of  bad  men  to 
seduce  the  erring  purity  of  man,  that  I  pronounce  it 
next  to  impossible  for  man  or  woman  to  escape,  if  they 
peivnit  had  men  to  ajpj^roacli  and  dally  ivitli  them.  O, 
there  is  more  than  magic  in  temptation,  when  it  beams 
down  upon  the  heart  of  man  like  the  sun  upon  a 
morass !  At  the  noontide  hour  of  purity  the  mists 
shall  rise  and  wreathe  a  thousand  fantastic  forms  of 
delusion ;  and  a  sudden  freak  of  passion,  a  single  gleam 
of  the  imagination,  one  sudden  rush  of  the  capricious 
heart,  and  the  resistance  of  years  may  be  prostrated  in 
a  moment,  the  heart  entered  by  the  besieging  enemy, 
its  rooms  sought  out,  and  eA-ery  lovely  affection  rudely 
seized  by  the  invader's  lust,  and  given  to  ravishment 
and  to  ruin. 

Now,  if  these  morality  teachers  could  guarantee  us 
against  all  evil  from  their  doings,  we  might  pay  their 
support,  and  think  it  a  cheap  bargain.  The  direct  and 
necessary  effect  of  their  pursuit,  however,  is  to  demor- 
alize men. 

Those  who  defend  theaters  would  scorn  to  admit 
actors  into  their  society.  It  is  wdtliin  the  knowledge 
of  all  that  men  who  thus  cater  for  public  pleasure  are 
usually  excluded  from  respectable  society.  The  general 
fact  is  not  altered  by  the  exceptions,  and  honorable  ex- 
ceptions there  are.  But  where  there  is  one  Siddons  and 
one  Ellen  Tree  and  one  Fanny  Kemble,  how  many  hun- 


POPULAE   AMUSEMENTS.  183 

dred  actresses  are  there  who  dare  not  venture  within 
modest  society  ?  '\^^lere  there  is  one  Garrick  and 
Sheridan,  how  many  thousand  licentious  wretches  are 
there  whose  acting  is  but  a  means  of  sensual  indulgence  ? 
In  the  support  of  gamblers,  circus-riders,  actors,  and 
racing-jockeys,  a  Cliristian  and  industrious  people  are 
guilty  of  supporting  thousands  of  mere  mischief-mak- 
ers, men  whose  very  heart  is  diseased,  and  whose  sores 
exhale  contagion  to  all  around  them.  We  pay  moral 
assassins  to  stab  the  purity  of  our  children.  We  warn 
our  sons  of  temptation,  and  yet  plant  the  seeds  which 
shall  bristle  with  all  the  spikes  and  thorns  of  the  worst 
temptation.  If  to  this  strong  language  you  answer 
that  these  men  are  generous  and  jovial,  that  their  very 
business  is  to  please,  that  they  do  not  mean  to  do  harm, 
I  reply,  that  I  do  not  charge  them  with  trying  to  pro- 
duce immorality,  but  with  pursuing  a  course  which 
produces  it,  whether  they  try  or  not.  An  evil  example 
does  harm  by  its  own  liberty,  without  asking  leave. 
Moral  disease,  like  the  plague,  is  contagious,  whether 
the  patient  wishes  it  or  not.  A  vile  man  infects  his 
children  in  spite  of  himself.  Criminals  make  criminals, 
just  as  taint  makes  taint,  disease  makes  disease,  plagues 
make  plagues.  Those  who  run  the  gay  round  of  pleas- 
ure cannot  help  dazzling  the  young,  confounding  their 
habits,  and  perverting  their  morals ;  it  is  the  very 
nature  of  their  employment. 

These  demoralizing  professions  could  not  be  sus- 
tained but  by  the  patronage  of  moral  men.  Wliere  do 
the  clerks,  tlie  apprentices,  the  dissipated,  get  their 
money  which  buys  an  entrance  ?  From  whom  is  that 
money  drained,  always,  in  every  land   which  supports 


184  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG   MEN. 

vice  ?  Unquestionably  from  the  good,  the  laborious, 
the  careful.  The  skill,  the  enterprise,  the  labor,  the 
good  morals  of  every  nation  are  always  taxed  for  the 
expenses  of  vice.  Jails  are  built  out  of  honest  men's 
earnings.  Courts  are  supported  from  peaceful  men's 
property.  Penitentiaries  are  built  by  the  toil  of  virtue. 
Crime  never  pays  its  own  way.  Vice  has  no  hands  to 
work,  no  head  to  calculate.  Its  whole  faculty  is  to 
corrupt  and  to  waste,  and  good  men,  directly  or  in- 
directly, foot  the  bill. 

At  this  time,  when  we  are  waiting  in  vain  for  the 
return  of  that  bread  which  we  wastefuUy  cast  upon  the 
waters ;  when,  all  over  the  sea,  men  are  fishing  up  the 
wrecks  of  those  argosies  and  full-freighted  fortunes 
which  foundered  in  the  sad  storm  of  recent  times,  — 
some  question  might  be  asked  about  the  economy  of 
vice ;  the  economy  of  paying  for  our  sons'  idleness ; 
the  economy  of  maintaining  a  whole  lazy  profession  of 
gamblers,  racers,  actresses,  and  actors,  —  human,  equine, 
and  belluine,  —  whose  errand  is  mischief  and  luxury 
and  license  and  giggling  folly.  It  ought  to  be  asked  of 
men  who  groan  at  a  tax  to  pay  their  honest  foreign 
debts,  whether  they  can  be  taxed  to  pay  the  bills  of 
mountebanks  ?  * 

*  We  cannot  pay  for  honest  loans,  but  we  can  pay  Elssler  hundreds 
of  thousands  for  being  an  airy  sylph!  America  can  pay  vagabond  fid- 
dlers, dancers,  fashionable  actors,  dancing-horses,  and  boxing-men ! 
Heaven  forbid  that  these  should  want !  But  to  pay  honest  debts,  — 
indeed,  indeed,  we  have  honorable  scruples  about  that ! 

Let  our  foreign  creditors  dismiss  their  fears  and  forgive  us  the  com- 
mercial  debt ;  write  no  more  drowsy  letters  ohowt  public  faith  ;  let  them 
write  spicy  comedies,  and  send  over  fiddlers  and  dancers  and  actors 
and  singers,  —  they  will   soon  collect  the  debt   and   keep   us   good- 


POPULAR   AMUSEMENTS.  185 

It  is  astonishing  liow  little  the  influence  of  those 
professions  has  been  considered,  which  exert  themselves 
mainly  to  delight  the  sensual  feelings  of  men.  That 
whole  race  of  men  whose  camp  is  the  theater,  the  circus, 
the  turf,  or  the  gaming-table,  is  a  race  whose  instinct  is 
destruction,  who  live  to  corrupt,  and  live  off  of  the  cor- 
ruption which  they  make.  For  their  suj)port  we  sacri- 
fice annual  hecatombs  of  youthful  victims.  Even  sober 
Christian  men  look  smilingly  upon  the  gairish  outside 
of  these  train-bands  of  destruction ;  and  while  we  see 
the  results  to  be,  uniformly,  dissipation,  idleness,  dis- 
honesty, vice,  and  crime,  still  they  lull  us  with  the 
lying  lyric  of  classic  drama  and  human  life,  morality, 
'poetry,  and  divine  comedy. 

natured!  After  every  extenuation, — hard  times,  deficient  currency 
want  of  market,  etc.,  —  there  is  a  deeper  reason  than  these  at  the  bottom 
of  our  inert  indebtedness.  Living  among  the  body  of  the  people  and 
having  nothing  to  lose  or  gain  by  my  opinions,  I  must  say  plainly  that 
the  community  are  not  sensitive  to  the  disgrace  of  flagrant  public 
bankruptcy ;  they  do  not  seem  to  care  whether  their  public  debt  be 
jiaid  or  not.  I  perceive  no  enthusiasm  on  that  subject  :  it  is  not  a 
topic  for  either  party,  nor  of  anxious  private  conversation.  A  pro- 
found indebtedness,  ruinous  to  our  credit  and  to  our  morals,  is  allowed 
to  lie  at  the  very  bottom  of  the  abyss  of  dishonest  indifference. 

Men  love  to  be  taxed  for  their  lusts ;  there  is  an  open  exchequer  for 
licentiousness  and  for  giddy  pleasure.  We  grow  suddenly  saving, 
when  benevolence  asks  alms  or  justice  duns  for  debts ;  we  dole  a  pit- 
tance to  suppliant  creditors  to  be  rid  of  their  clamor.  But  let  the 
divine  Fanny,  with  evolutions  extremely  efficacious  upon  the  feelings, 
fire  the  enthusiasm  of  a  whole  theater  of  men,  Avhose  applauses  rise,  as 
she  does  ;  let  this  courageous  dancer,  almost  literally  true  to  nature, 
display  her  adventurous  feats  before  a  thousand  men,  and  the  very 
miser  will  turn  spendthrift ;  the  land  which  will  not  pay  its  honest 
creditors  will  enrich  a  strolling  danseusc  and  rain  down  upon  the  stage 
a  stream  of  golden  boxes  or  golden  coin,  wreaths  and  rosy  billet- 
djoux. 


186  LECTURES   TO    YOUNG   MEN. 

Disguise  it  as  you  will,  these  men  of  pleasure  are,  the 
world  over,  coRFtUPTERS  of  youth.  Upon  no  principle 
of  kindness  can  we  tolerate  them;  no  excuse  is  bold 
enough;  we  can  take  bail  from  none  of  their  weak- 
nesses, —  it  is  not  safe  to  have  them  abroad  even  u^^on 
excessive  bail.  You  might  as  well  take  bail  of  lions, 
and  allow  scorpions  to  breed  in  our  streets  for  a  suit- 
able license ;  or,  for  a  tax,  indulge  assassins.  Men 
whose  life  is  given  to  evil  pleasures  are,  to  ordinary 
criminals,  what  a  universal  j)estilence  is  to  a  local 
disease.  They  iill  the  air,  pervade  the  community,  and 
bring  around  every  youth  an  atmosphere  of  death.  Cor- 
rupters of  youth  have  no  mitigation  of  their  baseness. 
Their  generosity  avails  nothing,  their  knowledge  noth- 
ing, their  varied  accomplishments  nothing.  These  are 
only  so  many  facilities  for  greater  evil.  Is  a  serpent 
less  deadly  because  his  burnished  scales  shine  ?  Shall 
a  dove  praise  and  court  the  vulture  because  he  has  such 
glossy  plumage  ?  The  more  accomplishments  a  bad 
man  has  the  more  dangerous  is  he ;  they  are  the  gar- 
lands which  cover  up  the  knife  with  which  he  will 
stab.  Tliere  is  no  such  thing  as  good  corrupters.  You 
might  as  well  talk  of  a  mild  and  pleasant  murder,  a 
very  lenient  assassination,  a  grateful  stench,  or  a  pious 
devil.  We  denounce  them,  for  it  is  our  nature  to 
loathe  perfidious  corruption.  We  have  no  compunc- 
tion to  withhold  us.  We  mourn  over  a  torn  and  bleed- 
ing lamb ;  but  who  mourns  the  wolf  which  rent  it  ? 
We  weep  for  despoiled  innocence ;  but  who  sheds  a  tear 
for  the  savage  fiend  who  plucks  away  the  flower  of 
virtue  ?  We  shudder  and  pray  for  the  shrieking  victim 
of  the  Inquisition ;  but  who  would  spare  the  hoary  in- 


POPULAR   AMUSEMENTS.  187 

quisitor,  before  whose  shriveled  form  the  piteous  maid 
implores  relief  in  vain  ?  Even  thus  we  palliate  the 
sins  of  generous  youth,  and  their  downfall  is  our  sor- 
row; but  for  their  destroyers,  for  the  coPtRUPTERS  of 
YOUTH  who  practice  the  infernal  chemistry  of  ruin  and 
dissolve  the  young  heart  in  vice,  we  have  neither  tears 
nor  pleas  nor  patience.  We  lift  our  heart  to  Him  who 
beareth  the  iron  rod  of  vengeance  and  jjray  for  the  ap- 
pointed time  of  judgment.  Ye  miscreants  !  think  ye 
that  ye  are  growing  tall  and  walking  safely  because 
God  hath  forgotten  ?  The  bolt  shall  yet  smite  you ! 
you  shall  be  heard  as  the  falling  of  an  oak  in  the  silent 
forest,  the  vaster  its  growth  the  more  terrible  its  resound- 
ing downfall.  O  thou  corrupter  of  youth  !  I  would 
not  take  thy  death  for  all  the  pleasure  of  thy  guilty 
life  a  thousand-fold.  Thou  shalt  draw  near  to  the 
shadow  of  death.  To  the  Christian  these  shades  are  the 
golden  haze  wliich  heaven's  light  makes  when  it  meets 
the  earth  and  mingles  with  its  shadows.  But  to  thee 
these  shall  be  shadows  full  of  pliantom  shapes.  Im- 
ages of  terror  in  the  future  shall  dimly  rise  and  beckon, 
the  ghastly  deeds  of  the  past  shall  stretch  out  their 
skinny  hands  to  push  thee  forward.  Thou  shalt  not 
die  unattended.  Despair  shall  mock  thee.  Agony 
shall  tender  to  thy  parched  lips  her  fiery  cup.  Re- 
morse shall  feel  for  thy  heart,  and  rend  it  open.  Good 
men  shall  breathe  freer  at  thy  death,  and  utter  thanks- 
giving when  thou  art  gone.  Men  shall  place  thy  grave- 
stone as  a  monument  and  testimony  that  a  plague  is 
stayed ;  no  tear  shall  wet  it,  no  mourner  linger  tliere. 
And,  as  borne  on  the  blast  thy  guilty  spirit  whistles 
toM'ard  the  gate  of  hell,  the  hideous  sliricks  of  those 


frjlTIVl 


188  LECTURES   TO    YOUNG   MEN. 

-whom  thy  Land  hath  destroyed  shall  pierce  thee, — 
hell's  first  welcome.  In  the  bosom  of  that  everlasting 
storm  which  rains  perpetual  misery  in  hell  slialt  thou, 
CORRUPTER  OF  YOUTH,  be  forever  hidden  from  our  view ; 
and  may  God  wipe  out  the  very  thoughts  of  thee  from 
our  memory ! 


VIII. 
PRACTICAL    HINTS*         ' 
*' Dearly  beloved,  I  beseech  you,  as  strangers  and  pilgrims, 

ABSTAIN  FROM  FLESHLY  LUSTS,  WHICH  WAR  AGAINST  THE  SOUL  ; 
HAVING  YOUR  CONVERSATION  HONEST  AMONG  THE  GeNTILES  ;  THAT, 

whereas  they  speak  against  you  as  evil-doers,  they  may 
by  your  good  works,  which  they  shall  behold,  glorify 
God  in  the  day  of  visitation.    Submit  yourselves  to  every 

ORDINANCE  OF  MAN  FOR  THE  LoRD's  SAKE  ;  AVHETHER  IT  BE  TO 
THE  KING,  AS  SUPREME,  OR  UNTO  GOVERNORS,  AS  UNTO  THEM 
THAT  ARE  SENT  BY  HIM  FOR  THE  PUNISHMENT  OF  EVIL-DOERS, 
AND  FOR  THE  PRAISE  OF  THEM  THAT  DO  WELL.  FoR  SO  IS  THE 
WILL  OF  God,  that  with  WELL-DOING  ye  may  PUT  TO  SILENCE 
THE  IGNORANCE  OF  FOOLISH  MEN  ;  AS  FREE,  AND  NOT  USING  YOUR 
LIBERTY  FOR  A  CLOAK  OF  MALICIOUSNESS,  BUT  AS  THE  SER- 
VANTS OF  God.  —  1  Pet.  ii.  11-16. 

f^^l^^^^J^HIS  passage  shows  the  large-mindedness 
^^firl  ■  t  >  which  the  Apostle  would  put  into  the  con- 
'P&'-f^.'^\',  duct  of  human  affairs.  The  ordinary  pro- 
r^:s^>^^^  cesses  of  human  life,  which  so  often  are 
made  vulgar  and  mean  by  pride  and  by  selfislmess,  and 
wliicli  oftentimes  seem  to  us  to  be  inevitably  joined  to 
all  tliat  is  unmanly,  were  looked  upon  by  him  as  noble 
and  ennobling,  worthy  of  tlie  best  care  and  thouglit.  It 
is  peculiar  to  the  New  Testament  tliat  it  underlays 
human  life  with  motives  that  dignify  it  in  all  its  parts. 

*  Delivered  Sunday  evening,  May  8,  1859. 


190  LECTURES   TO    YOUNG   MEN. 

I  desire  to  refresh  the  minds  of  the  young,  more  par- 
ticularly, with  some  thoughts  respecting  their  various 
relations  in  life,  and  with  some  plain  practical  sugges- 
tions and  instructions  with  reference  to  the  best  method 
of  fulfilling  their  duties  in  those  relations. 

The  young  are  those  to  whom  we  look  for  future 
strength  and  for  future  good ;  and  the  longer  we  live 
the  more  anxious  we  become  that  they  who  are  to  be 
tlie  fresh  recruits  should  be  morally  of  right  stature. 
Around  them  are  peculiar  temptations  and  trials,  witch- 
ing, cunning,  insidious,  and  forceful ;  and  we  are  obliged 
to  see  thousands  falling  by  the  way  whose  fall  seems 
needless.  They,  like  ourselves,  are  to  have  but  one 
chance  in  life.  We  that  are  somewhat  advanced  in 
years,  seeing  how  many  perils  there  are  around  about 
that  one  chance,  feel  an  earnest  desire  that  every  advan- 
tage should  be  given  to  those  who  are  coming  on  to  fill 
our  places.  We  can  live  but  once,  and  life  is  usually 
molded  and  takes  its  shape  very  early. 

I  propose,  therefore,  on  this  occasion,  to  consider  the 
relations  which  the  young  of  both  sexes  sustain  to  their 
parents,  their  employers,  to  themselves,  and  to  the  com- 
munity or  country  in  which  they  live. 

ISTo  young  person  should  consider  it  an  advantage  to 
get  rid  of  parental  supervision  and  care.  Though  to 
the  child  there  comes  a  period  when  it  irks  the  ear 
to  be  perpetually  taught  and  restrained,  yet  there  is 
nothing  in  after  life  that  can  take  the  place  of  father 
and  mother  to  him.  There  is  no  other  institution  like 
the  family ;  there  is  no  other  love  like  parental  love ; 
there  is  no  other  friendship  like  the  friendship  of  father 
and  of  mother.     While  the  boy  and  girl  are  yet  sprout- 


PRACTICAL   HINTS.  191 

ing  into  manliood  and  -^'omanliood,  they  may  be  a  Little 
impatient  under  restraint ;  yet  every  after-year  of  in- 
dependence will  teach  the  young  man  and  maiden  that 
there  were  no  advantages  like  those  which  their  parents 
gave  them.  Young  man,  there  are  no  persons  that  will 
tell  you  tlie  truth  so  faithfully,  there  are  no  persons 
that  know  your  faults  so  well,  there  are  none  so  dis- 
interestedly considerate  for  your  well-being,  as  father 
and  mother.  Besides,  no  newspaper,  no  pulpit,  no  tri- 
bunal of  any  kind,  ever  discusses  or  touches  these  ques- 
tions that  belong  to  the  familiar  converse  of  the  family. 
We  cannot  approach,  in  these  arms-length  discourses,  to 
that  familiar  wisdom  which  brings  information  home  to 
the  very  spot  where  it  is  needed  in  individual  charac- 
ter, as  father  and  mother  do  at  the  nightly  fireside. 

Do  not  be  too  anxious,  tlierefore,  to*  break  off  the 
connection  which  exists  between  you  and  your  parents. 
Eemember,  that  as  the  law  c^overnin^f  that  social  band 
makes  it  inevitable  that  you  must  inherit  its  honor  or 
disgrace,  so  it  acts  retrospectively,  and  you  are  to  cast 
back  a  part  of  your  well-doing  or  iU-doing  upon  it.  You 
are  not  free  from  your  father  and  mother  yet,  nor  are 
your  obligations  to  them  ended.  As  long  as  you  live 
you  will  owe  a  child's  duty  to  your  parents.  It  is  an 
obligatory  duty  as  long  as  you  are  a  minor ;  it  becomes 
a  spontaneous  offering  of  honor  and  affection  when  you 
pass  to  your  majority. 

It  is  one  of  the  worst  signs  that  can  mark  young  men 
and  maidens  that  they  easily  forget  the  home  of  their 
father  and  mother;  and  you  that  have  left  country 
liomes  and  come  down  to  this  great  thoroughfare,  so  far 
from  laying  aside  the  associations  of  home,  and  being 


192  LECTURES    TO   YOUNG   MEN. 

asliamed  of  its  counsels  and  manners,  be  yet  more  assid- 
uous and  careful  than  you  ever  were  before  to  treasure 
them  up.  Hold  fast  to  home  influences  and  remem- 
brances ;  and  recollect  that  he  who  tries  to  shame  you 
out  of  a  father's  and  a  mother's  fear,  and  out  of  obedi- 
ence to  them,  tries  to  steal  the  most  precious  treasure 
you  have.  He  that  is  trying  to  destroy  the  influence  of 
your  parents  upon  you  is  trying  to  take  from  you  the 
most  faithful  love  you  ever  knew.  You  shall  lie  down 
in  the  grave  when  you  shall  have  traversed  forty  or 
eighty  years  of  life,  without  having  found  another 
friend  who  has  borne  as  much  for  you,  or  done  as  much 
for  you,  as  your  father  or  your  mother.  There  is  no 
need,  I  trust,  that  I  should  say  more  upon  this  point. 

I  pass  next  to  consider  some  of  your  duties  to  your 
employers ;  and  this  branch  of  our  subject  includes  a 
"wide  range. 

I  ask  you  to  consider,  in  the  first  place,  your  rela- 
tions to  your  employers  from  the  highest,  and,  therefore, 
from  a  Christian  point  of  view.  Do  not  vulgarize  your 
secular  relations,  but  make  a  matter  of  religion  of  them. 
At  least,  look  at  them  in  the  highest  moods  and  feelings 
of  religious  honor.  It  will  make  all  the  difference  in 
the  world  whether  you  look  at  your  duties  to  your  em- 
ployers from  a  low  and  selfish  point  of  view,  or  from  a 
high-minded  and  generous  point  of  view.  It  will  make 
all  the  difference  in  the  world  whether  you  look  at  your 
employers  simply  as  men  who  for  the  time  being  have 
an  advantage  over  you,  or  wdio  in  some  sense  are  your 
instruments,  or  are  obstacles  in  your  way ;  or,  on  the 
other  hand,  as  being,  like  yourselves,  children  of  God, 
going  with  you  to  a  common  home  and  to  a  common 


PRACTICAL   HINTS.  193 

judgment,  toward  wliom  you  are  bound  to  cherish  all 
Christian  feelings. 

Be  sure,  after  having  entered  into  any  relationships, 
to  faithfully  perform  your  part.  Be  careful  that  you 
do  not  fall  into  a  narrow,  selfish,  calculating  mood. 
Especially  avoid  measuring  every  obligation  and  every 
fulfillment  of  duty  upon  a  very  narrow  gauge,  saying, 
"  How  little  must  I  do  to  discharge  my  duty  ?  How 
few  hours  can  I  afford  to  put  in  ?  How  little  diligence 
can  I  use  ? "  Guard  most  particularly  against  measur- 
ing what  you  do  by  the  character  of  the  persons  for 
whom  you  do  it.  Remember  that  there  are  always  two 
parties  in  every  partnership,  and  if  you  happen  in  God's 
providence  to  be  jDlaced  under  persons  of  merit  and 
worth,  you  owe  it  first  to  them  and  secondly  to  your- 
selves, to  act  in  a  high  and  honorable  way.  But  if 
your  employers  are  as  mean  as  mean  can  be,  you  never 
can  afford,  for  your  own  sake,  to  act  in  any  except  a 
large,  magnanimous,  and  manly  way.  There  is  no 
excuse  for  your  acting  peevishly  or  unfaithfully  under 
any  circumstances. 

Always  aim  to  do  more  and  not  less  than  is  expected 
of  you.  Even  though  the  expectation  is  unreasonable, 
it  affords  no  excuse  for  unfaithfulness  in  you.  Desire 
to  do  more  than  is  put  upon  you;  and,  even  if  you  should 
be  blamed  at  every  step,  keep  that  desire.  The  need- 
less fault-finding  of  your  employers  does  not  exonerate 
you  from  duty.  If  they  are  exacting,  if  they  are  a 
great  deal  too  hard,  it  will  not  hurt  you  in  the  end. 
Kothini^  hurts  an  honorable  man,  nothii]<_>-  liurts  a  true 
man.  I  never  saw  a  man  spoiled  because  too  much 
was  exacted  of  him,  or  because  he  did  too  mucli,  unless 

9  M 


194  LECTURES   TO    YOUNG   MEN. 

his  hardships  were  so  severe  as  to  undermine  or  crush 
out  his  manliness,  teaching  him  to  do  mean  things,  and 
leading  him  to  run  circuitous  courses  all  around  duty. 
If  you  are  used  hardly  and  roughly,  you  will  be  a 
tougher  man  in  the  end  than  if  you  had  not  received 
such  usage.  If  you  come  out  of  such  circumstances, 
you  will  come  out  as  iron  comes  out  of  fire,  —  steel. 

All  real  or  supposed  evil ;  all  oppression,  if  your 
employers  oppress  you ;  all  cheating,  if  they  cheat 
you ;  all  manner  of  dishonorableness,  if  they  put  it 
upon  you,  —  all  these  things  can  never  justify  you  in 
doing  the  same  things  to  them  in  retaliation,  or  acquit 
you  of  one  single  duty.-  If  you  are  apprenticed  to  a 
miser,  and  if  he  diminishes  your  proper  quantity  of 
food,  if  he  clothes  you  poorly,  if  he  denies  you  your 
appropriate  hours  of  relaxation,  —  these  are  his  acts  of 
wickedness.  Do  not  make  yourself  a  fellow  to  him  by 
attempting  to  retaliate,  by  attempting  to  cheat  him  in 
the  same  way  that  he  has  cheated  you.  It  is  just  as 
wrong  for  you  to  cheat  him  as  for  him  to  cheat  you, 
although  he  may  cheat  you  first.  "  Vengeance  is  mine  : 
I  will  repay,  saith  the  Lord."  You  have  no  right  to 
undertake  to  repay  men  their  wickedness  in  this  world : 
you  should  leave  that  to  God.  And  though  the  man 
that  employs  you  be  never  so  bad,  do  you  remember  to 
be  good ;  and  every  time  you  feel  the  edge  of  his  evil, 
say  to  yourself,  "  I  will  see  to  it  that  I  am  not  like 
him."  Overcome  evil  with  good.  It  is  very  difficult 
to  do  this,  I  know,  especially  in  the  presence  of  a  hard 
and  hateful  man ;  but  I  tell  you  it  is  duty,  and  duty 
can  always  be  performed. 

Do  not,  therefore,  fall  into  the  habit  of  measuring 


PRACTICAL   HINTS.  195 

what  you  give  and  what  you  get,  —  service  and  remu- 
neration. In  considering  into  what  relations  you  shall 
enter  in  life,  this  is  proper ;  but  when  relations  have 
once  been  established  between  one  and  another,  the 
generous  way  of  looking  at  things  is  the  happier  and 
better  way,  no  matter  how  unequal  it  may  seem.  It  is 
not  best  for  you  to  disquiet  yourself  by  turning  over  and 
over  in  your  mind  the  circumstances  you  are  in,  and 
looking  at  them  from  the  least  favorable  point  of  view. 
Always  look  on  the  hopeful  side  of  tilings ;  ahvays  re- 
gard things  in  a  charitable  light ;  always  take  a  generous 
view  of  thino'S  for  your  own  sake,  if  on  no  other  account. 

Eemember,  also,  that  your  moral  character  is  worth 
more  to  you  than  everything  else,  in  all  your  relationships 
in  life.  Xot  only  for  religious  reasons,  but  even  for  the 
commonest  secular  reasons,  this  is  so.  It  is  very  desira- 
ble that  you  should  have  information ;  it  is  very  de- 
sirable that  you  should  have  a  skillful  and  nimble  hand 
for  the  pursuit  in  which  you  are  engaged ;  it  is  very 
desirable  that  you  should  understand  business  and 
men  and  life ;  but  it  is  still  more  desirable  that  you 
should  be  a  man  of  integrity,  —  of  strict,  untemp table, 
or  at  least  unbreakable  integrity,  —  even  for  civil  and 
secular  reasons.  For  nothinsj  is  so  much  in  demand  as 
simple  untemptability  in  men  ;  nothing  is  in  so  much 
demand  as  men  who  are  held,  by  the  fear  of  God  and 
by  the  love  of  rectitude,  to  tliat  whicli  is  right.  Their 
price  is  above  rubies.  More  than  wedges  of  gold  are 
they  worth ;  and  nowhere  else  are  they  worth  so  much 
as  in  cities  and  marts  like  this,  where  so  much  must  be 
put  at  stake  upon  the  fidelity  of  agents. 

It  is  very  hard  to  find  men  now.     You  can  find  good 


196  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG  MEN, 

trees  in  the  woods  for  masts,  but  that  is  difficult ;  yet 
you  can  find  ten  such  sticks  easier  than  you  can  find 
one  man  that  will  resist  temptation.  We  must  make 
men  now  as  they  make  masts ;  tliey  saw  down  a  dozen 
trees,  splice  them  together,  and  bind  them  round  with 
iron  hoops,  and  thus  make  masts  that  are  sup]30sed  to 
be  stronger  than  they  would  be  if  each  was  a  whole 
piece  of  timber.  And  so  with  men  :  if  you  want  a  good 
man,  you  have  to  take  a  dozen  men  and  splice  them  to- 
gether, and  wind  the  hoops  of  responsibility  round  and 
round  them,  and  j)ut  watching-bands  all  about  them, 
before  you  can  get  a  man  with  whom  you  will  dare  to 
leave  your  money ;  and  then  he  will  run  away  with  it. 
It  is  very  hard  to  find  a  man  of  good  sound  timber 
that  will  stand  the  pressure  of  circumstances,  that  is 
without  a  flaw,  that  cannot  be  shaken,  that  will 
bear  the  stress  of  opportunity,  temptation,  and  impu- 
nity. It  is  one  of  the  most  difficult  matters  to  get  a 
man  who  will  safely  go  through  these  three  things, — 
ojDimrtunity,  tcmj^tation,  imimiiity.  A  .man  that  can  go 
through  these  three  things,  and  stand  proved  in  truth 
and  honesty,  is  beyond  all  price ;  and  it  is  such  men 
that  we  want.  Business  needs  them;  everything  in 
commercial  life  needs  them.  Wherefore,  remember 
that  in  all  your  business  relations  you  should  be  doing 
two  things.  While  you  are  gaining  an  outward  ac- 
quaintance with  those  various  professions  or  pursuits 
in  which  you  are  to  engage  for  a  livelihood,  you  should 
be  doing  a  much  more  important  thing,  namely,  you 
should  be  gaining  an  inward  integrity ;  training  your- 
self to  be  a  man  of  upright  dealing,  establishing  a  char- 
acter for  the  strictest  rectitude. 


PRACTICAL   HINTS.  197 

ijQ  very  careful  about  your  word.  Be  very  shy  of 
giving  it ;  but,  once  uttered,  let  it  cliange  to  adamant. 
Ce  as  careful  of  it  as  if  you  were  fully  conscious  that 
the  eye  of  the  living  God  was  upon  you,  for  it  is  upon 
you.  Once  having  given  it,  never  allow  yourself  to 
take  it  up  and  weigh  it.  The  moment  a  man  begins  to 
think  about  a  dishonesty,  he  has  lialf  committed  it; 
the  moment  a  man  begins  to  think  about  a  lie,  he  has 
half  told  it ;  tlie  moment  a  man  begins  to  pull  out  his 
word  or  his  promise  to  examine  it,  you  may  be  sure 
he  will  break  it ;  as  when,  in  an  affray,  a  soldier  begins 
to  pull  his  sword  from  its  sheath,  you  know  tliat  there 
is  blood  going  to  be  spilt  somewhere.  When  a  man, 
after  liaving  given  his  word,  begins  to  say,  "  I  do  not 
mean  to  break  my  promise,  but  if  I  did  there  would  be 
good  cause.  Is  there  not  some  flaw  in  it  ?  can  I  not 
interjDret  it  thus  and  so  ? "  —  that  moment  his  word, 
and  with  it  his  honor,  is  good  for  nothing.  Never 
deliberate  on  your  word,  but  let  it  go  as  the  arrow  goes 
to  the  target,  —  let  it  strike,  and  stand. 

Be  firm,  also,  under  all  provocation  and  under  all 
temptations.  Be  careful  that  you  do  no  wrong  to  your 
employers,  without  regard  to  their  character  or  merit, 
and  without  any  regard  to  their  treatment  of  you.  Let 
it  be  a  matter  of  religious  honor  with  you  never  to 
wrong  them  in  the  least  thing.  Be  just  as  firm  in  your 
determination  never  to  do  any  wrong /o/'  them,  as  you 
are  in  your  determination  never  to  do  any  wrong  agaiiist 
them.  Xo  matter  if  they  do  want  a  whiplash  with 
which  to  strike  out  into  iniquitous  things,  never  let 
them  tie  you  to  their  handle,  and  use  you  for  such  a 
purpose,  however  much  it  may  cost  you  to  resist  their 


198  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG   MEN. 

endeavors  to  degrade  you  in  this  manner.  One  thing 
is  certain,  that  all  special  reasons  tliat  you  may  urge  to 
justify  you  in  yielding,  under  circumstances  like  these, 
in  the  end  will  fall  to  the  ground.  You  may  be  sure 
that  a  young  man  who  trusts  to  integrity  has  a  compass 
that  will  never  deceive  him,  through  night  and  darkness, 
or  throufdi  storms  and  winds  and  waves  that  threaten 
to  overwhelm  him. 

You  are  not  to  determine  your  duty,  in  matters  of 
simple  truth  and  honesty,  by  any  fear  of  consequences. 
Suppose  you  are  in  debt ;  suppose  you  are  about  to  be 
pitched  out  of  the  establishment ;  suppose  you  do  not 
know  where  to  get  your  daily  bread,  or  how  to  pay  for 
your  clothes ;  suppose  you  are  without  friends,  —  God 
Almighty  is  on  the  side  of  every  man  who  is  right ! 
Wait  patiently,  and  God  will  make  it  appear.  Do  you 
believe  that  he  who  will  not  let  a  sparrow  fall  to  the 
ground  without  his  notice  will  not  care  for  you  ?  Do 
you  believe  that  he  who  feeds  the  birds  of  the  air  will  not 
supply  your  wants  ?  Do  you  beheve  that  he  who  has 
starred  the  Bible  all  over  with  promises  will  let  you 
make  a  sacrifice  of  yourself  in  integrity  ?  Is  there  no 
providence  that  takes  care  of  men  ?  Is  there  no  God 
of  justice  and  of  love  who  looks  after  his  creatures  ? 
Why  should  you  be  afraid  to  step  out  of  the  ship,  if  it 
be  Christ  who  says,  "  Come  to  me "  ?  and  when  you 
step  out  upon  the  waves,  why  should  you,  like  Peter, 
abandon  your  faith,  and  then  sink  because  you  are 
afraid  ?  Walk,  no  matter  what  may  be  the  height  of 
the  wave  or  the  fierceness  of  the  storm,  wherever  duty 
calls.  Remember  that  it  is  Christ  who  says,  "  Come  to 
me. "     Go,  and  go  fearlessly.     But  never  wrong  your 


PEACTICAL   HINTS.  199 

employers ;  neither  do  wrong  for  them.  If  they  have 
got  any  mean  work  to  be  done,  tell  them  to  do  it  them- 
selves ;  never  do  it  for  them. 

And  generally,  let  me  say,  never  ask  a  man  to  do 
for  you  anything  that  you  would  not  do  yourself;  and 
never,  under  any  circumstances  whatever,  do  for  any 
man  that  which  you  would  not  do  for  yourself  You 
cannot  shift  responsibility  in  such  matters.  If  you  do 
any  false  swearing,  you  cannot  charge  it  to  the  estab- 
lishment. You  cannot  be  delegated  to  tell  a  lie  so 
that  in  telling  it  you  will  be  exonerated  from  guilt. 
You  cannot  be  the  bearer  of  a  false  statement,  and  be 
no  more  responsible  for  it  than  the  mail-bag  is  for  the 
contents  of  the  letters  which  are  carried  in  it.  If  you 
tell  a  lie  for  a  man,  yoit  tell  the  lie,  however  much  he 
also  may  do  it.  There  is  no  such  thing  as  your  doing 
a  wrong  for  others  without  being  responsible  for  that 
wrong  yourself.  And  if,  wlien  men  send  you  to  per- 
form little  meannesses,  you  trot  quickly  to  do  their 
bidding,  they  will  mark  you,  and  say, "  He  is  fit  for  it "  ; 
but  if,  when  men  attempt  to  put  upon  you  such  miser- 
able business  they  find  you  stiff  in  opposition,  they 
will  mark  that  also,  and  say,  "  Is  that  all  a  pretense,  or 
is  it  real  ? "  They  think  that  perhaps  they  have  found 
a  person  to  be  trusted ;  but  they  will  not  be  satisfied 
till  they  have  thoroughly  tested  you.  Tliey  always 
wish  to  know  if  that  which  looks  like  gold  is  gold.  So 
they  will  try  you  again  and  again ;  and  if  you  stand 
firm  in  your  honesty,  by  and  by  they  will  say,  "  I  do 
not  know,  after  all,  but  he  has  got  that  tliiug  in  liim. 
I  have  heard  of  conscience,  and  it  may  be  that  lie  has 
it.  "     Even  after  that  they  will  try  you  in  various  ways, 


200  LECTURES   TO    YOUNG   MEN. 

and  wlien  they  find  that  your  uprightness  is  not  a  mere 
freak,  is  not  a  mere  fit,  but  that  it  has  a  substantial 
foundation  in  your  character,  they  will  begin  to  say, 
"  By  and  by  I  shall  want  a  partner  or  a  confidential 
clerk,  and  here  is  a  young  man  wlio  is  honorable,  intel- 
ligent, and  active,  and  if  he  has  got  that  thing  in  liim 
he  is  just  the  one  for  me ;  but  I  will  watch  him,  I  will 
try  him  thoroughly  before  I  enter  into  any  important 
relationship  with  him.  "  For,  I  assure  you,  men  think 
of  a  great  many  things  in  the  office,  when  you  are  at 
work  in  the  store  below,  that  you  do  not  dream  of ;  and 
you  may  depend  upon  it  that  when  the  sifting  is  all 
done,  and  the  chaff  is  blown  away,  you  that  have  been 
tlie  soundest  in  your  integrity  will  be  among  the 
plumpest  of  the  wheat.  Do  not  forget,  therefore,  that 
you  are  being  educated  for  a  moral  purpose,  and  not 
merely  for  a  secular  one. 

Yet,  I  remark,  do  not  be  a  man  of  integrity  just 
because  it  is  profitable.  I  would  not  like  to  put  moral 
qualities  up  at  auction  as  merchantable  things.  "  God- 
liness, "  it  is  true,  "  is  profitable  in  all  things,  having 
promise  of  the  life  that  now  is  and  of  that  which  is  to 
come  " ;  but  that  is  a  very  insufficient  way  of  looking 
at  it.  Therefore,  do  not  accustom  yourselves  to  measure 
moral  qualities  by  what  they  bring  in  the  market,  by 
mere  gold  and  silver.  Do  not  stop  to  ask  how  much 
your  integrity  costs  you.  Do  not  in  any  way  take  a 
low  view  of  your  moral  training.  If  you  find  that 
truth  and  honesty  and  fidelity  arc  not  presently  re- 
warded, do  not  be  discouraged.  It  is  conceit,  some- 
times, tliat  leads  men  to  tliink  they  are  not  properly 
rewarded.     All  men  have  a  conceit  with  reference  to 


PRACTICAL   HINTS.  201 

their  deserts,  and  if  within  six  months  or  a  year  after 
the  performance  of  what  they  conceive  to  be  a  good 
act  they  are  not  rewarded  for  it,  they  are  apt  to  feel 
injured.  Do  good,  not  ignorant  that  it  will  bring  a 
reward,  but  do  not  do  it  for  the  sake  of  the  reward 
which  it  will  bring.  Even  if  it  brought  no  reward,  you 
should  do  it  for  the  sake  of  itself. 

A  life  of  slippery  experience  can  have  but  one  end. 
Therefore  be  honest  and  truthfid. :  be  so  because  it  is 
profitable,  if  you  please ;  but  if  it  were  not  profitable, 
you  should  be  so  just  the  same.  You  certainly  will 
gain  more  by  this  course,  in  a  long  run,  than  by  the 
opposite  one ;  for  I  aver,  tliat  in  nine  hundred  and 
ninety-nine  cases  out  of  a  thousand,  men  who  are  not 
truthful,  who  are  not  diligent,  who  are  not  careful  of 
their  character,  who  are.  not  honest,  end  disastrously. 

There  are  two  things  about  riches :  one  is  to  catch 
them,  and  the  other  is  to  hold  them.  I  have  seen  many 
a  man  get  money  as  a  man  catches  a  bird.  He  has  the 
bird  safe  till  he  goes  to  put  it  into  the  cage,  but  when 
he  opens  his  hand  to  put  it  in,  out  and  off  it  flies.  So 
the  riches  of  many  men  take  to  themselves  wings  and 
fly  away.  How  many  men  have  been  rich  for  a  brief 
period,  say  for  two  or  three  years,  and  then  gone 
down  in  some  speculation,  just  as  before  they  had 
gone  up  in  some  speculation.  There  are  many  men 
who,  by  wrong  dealing,  get  themselves  into  a  kind  of 
prosperity.  People  refer  to  them,  and  pompously  say, 
"  What  sense  is  there  in  preaching  that  a  man  must 
have  integrity  ? "  They  may  be  rich  now,  but  I  will 
not  answer  for  their  riches  five  or  ten  years  hence.  If 
I  then  look  to  see  where  all  their  show  and  pomp  is,  I 

9* 


202  LECTURES  TO   YOUNG   MEN. 

shall  very  likely  find  that  these  things  are  gone  ;  that 
they  have  passed  away ;  and  that  new  faces  occupy  tlie 
places  where  they  were.  I  would  to  God  that  there 
were  moral  as  there  are  physical  statistics.  If  there 
were,  it  would  be  shown  that  integrity  and  permanent 
prosperity  go  together.  I  know  there  are  apparent 
exceptions  on  both  sides,  but  the  general  truth  is  that 
a  stable  prosperity  must  stand  upon  integrity. 

Let  me  speak,  next,  of  a  subject  which  stands  inti- 
mately connected  with  your  prosperity  and  virtue  in  life. 
I  refer  to  the  matter  of  your  health.  I  feel  more  in- 
clined to  do  so  because  there  are  so  many  who  have  no 
friends  to  teach  them  on  this  subject,  and  who  have  no 
information  respecting  it.  Health  is  the  foundation  of 
all  things  in  this  life.  Although  work  is  healthy  and 
occupation  almost  indispensable  to  health  and  happi- 
ness, yet  excessive  work  which  taxes  the  brain  almost 
invariably  ends  in  weakening  the  digestive  organs. 
There  are  men  here  who  overtax  their  minds  all  day 
long,  through  months  and  years,  ignorant  that  there  is 
a  subtle  but  inevitable  connection  between  dyspepsia 
and  too  much  mental  exertion.  I  see  around  me  the 
effects  of  too  intense  mental  application  in  scholars,  in 
bankers,  in  merchants,  and  in  business  men  of  every 
other  class.  It  is  a  thing  which  every  man  should  un- 
derstand, that  there  is  a  point  beyond  which,  if  he  urge 
his  brain,  the  injurious  result  will  be  felt,  not  in  the 
head,  but  in  the  stomach.  The  nerves  of  the  stomach 
become  weakened  by  excessive  mental  application  ;  and 
the  moment  a  man  loses  his  stomach,  the  citadel  of  his 
physical  life  is  taken.  All  your  body  is  renewed  from 
the  blood  of  your  system,  and  that  blood  is  made  from 


PRACTICAL   HIXTS.  203 

the  food  taken  into  the  stomach.  The  cai^acity  of  tlie 
blood  to  renew  nerve  and  fibre  and  bone  and  muscle, 
and  thus  to  keep  you  in  a  state  of  health,  depends  upon 
the  perfectness  of  your  digestive  functions. 

There  is  scarcely  one  man  in  a  hundred  who  sup- 
poses that  he  must  ask  leave  of  his  stomach  to  be  a 
happy  man.  In  many  cases  the  difference  between 
happy  men  and  unhappy  men  is  caused  by  their  diges- 
tion. Oftentimes  the  difference  between  hopeful  men 
and  melancholy  men  is  simply  the  difference  of  their 
digestion.  There  is  much  that  is  called  spiritual 
ailment  that  is  nothing  but  stomachic  ailment.  I 
have,  during  my  experience  as  a  religious  teacher,  had 
persons  call  upon  me  with  that  hollow  cheek,  that 
emaciated  face,  and  that  peculiar  look  which  indicate 
the  existence  of  this  cerebral  and  stomachic  difficulty, 
to  tell  me  about  tlieir  trials  and  temptations  ;  and, 
whatever  I  may  have  said  to  them,  my  inward  thought 
has  been,  "  There  is  very  little  help  that  can  be  afforded 
you  till  your  health  is  established."  The  foundation  of 
all  earthly  happiness  is  physical  health ;  and  yet  men 
scarcely  ever  value  it  till  they  have  lost  it. 

Eemember,  also,  that  too  little  sleep  is  almost  as 
inevitably  fatal  as  anything  can  be  to  your  health  and 
happiness.  Suppose  you  do  work  very  hard  all  day 
long,  that  is  no  reason  why  you  should  say,  "  I  am  not 
going  to  be  a  mere  pack-horse  ;  and  if  I  cannot  have 
pleasure  by  day  I  will  have  it  at  niglit."  You  are  tak- 
ing the  very  substance  out  of  your  body  wlien  you  burn 
the  lamp  of  pleasure  till  one  or  two  o'clock  at  night.  It 
may  be  that  at  certain  seasons  of  the  year  you  may,  now 
and  then,  diminish  the  quantity  of  rest  and  sleep,  and 


204  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG   MEN. 

still  retain  your  health ;  but  for  a  young  man  to  follow 
the  excitations  of  pleasure  continually  is  like  burning 
many  wicks  in  one  lamp.  He  o^innot  do  it  for  any  con- 
siderable length  of  time  without  destroying  his  consti- 
tution. There  is  nothing  more  inevitable  than  that  the 
want  of  sleep  undermines  the  body  itself.  As  a  general 
rule,  eight  hours  of  sleep  are  necessary  for  a  young  per- 
son. There  is  a  difference,  however,  in  the  amount  of 
sleep  required  by  different  persons  of  the  same  age.  A 
nervous  man  does  not  usually  need  as  much  sleep  as  a 
phlegmatic  man,  for  the  reason  that  some  men  accom- 
plish more  sleep  in  tlie  same  time  than  others.  A 
nervous  man  will  walk  a  mile  quicker,  will  eat  his 
meals  quicker,  will  do  everything  quicker,  and  will  there- 
fore sleep  quicker  than  a  phlegmatic  man.  Some  men 
will  do  as  much  sleep-work  in  six  hours  as  otlier  men 
will  in  eight  hours.  Some,  therefore,  can  do  with  less 
sleep  than  others ;  but  whatever  may  be  the  amount 
which  experience  teaches  you  that  you  need,  that 
amount  you  should  take.  It  may  excite  a  smile  when 
I  say  it,  but  it  is  nevertheless  true,  that  it  is  a  part  of 
your  religious  duty  to  sleej^.  A  great  many  men  have 
destroyed  the  usefulness  of  their  lives  through  igno- 
rance of  this  indispensable  law  of  recuperation. 

I  may,  without  impropriety,  speak  of  my  own  ex- 
perience in  this  matter.  I  attribute  much  of  my  power 
of  endurance  to  the  discreet  direction  of  an  experienced 
father,  from  whom  I  obtained,  early  in  life,  some  right 
ideas  respecting  diet,  exercise,  and  sleep.  I  have  been 
accustomed,  under  constant  taxation  of  public  labor, 
that  made  excitement  inevitable  and  continued,  for 
more  than  twenty  years,  to  divide  each  day  into  two 
days,  sleeping  a  little  near  the  mivldie  of  the  day. 


PRACTICAL   HINTS.  205 

For  more  tlian  twenty  years,  under  constant  taxation 
of  public  labor  of  a  most  exciting  kind,  I  have  main- 
tained health  and  good  spirits  by  a  conscientious  and 
scrupulous  observance  of  the  laws  of  health,  and  in 
nothing  have  I  been  more  careful  than  in  securing 
sleep.  God  has  made  sleep  to  be  a  sponge  by  which  to 
rub  out  fatigue.  A  man's  roots  are  planted  in  night  as 
in  a  soil,  and  out  of  it  he  comes  every  day  with  fresh 
growth  and  bloom. 

Diet  and  out-of-door  exercise  are  also  elements  of 
healtli  not  to  be  neglected  with  impunity.  There  are 
many  who  have  not  their  choice  in  this  regard ;  and  I 
am  truly  sorry  for  those  who  are  obliged,  by  the  nature 
of  their  calling  or  the  terms  of  their  engagement,  to 
forego  exercise  in  the  open  air.  It  is  a  painful  sight 
to  see  workingmen  looking  pale  and  emaciated,  like 
plants  that  grow  in  the  shade,  without  that  robust- 
ness or  that  healthy  hue  that  comes  from  work  out  of 
doors. 

I  desire  that  there  may  be  no  notions  of  religion 
which  shall  lead  men  to  think  that  there  is  any  harm 
in  robust,  manly  exercise,  —  in  fencing,  riding,  boxing, 
rowing,  rolling,  or  casting  the  javelin  or  quoit.  These 
exercises,  when  prudently  and  properly  indulged  in,  are 
beneficial.  Whatever  tends  to  give  you  a  robust  and 
developed  physical  system  is  in  favor  of  virtue  and 
against  vice,  other  things  being  equal. 

All  the  passions  that  carry  with  them  anxiety  or 
care,  anger,  envy,  jealousy,  or  fear,  or  any  other  of  the 
malign  feelings,  are  positively  unliealthy.  A  man  who 
lives  in  any  of  these  lower  feelings  is  living  in  a  state 
in  ^\'hic]i  lie  is  all  the  time  decreasing  the  vital  con- 


206  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG   MEN. 

ditions  of  Ins  body,  and  rendering  himself  more  and 
more  liable  to  be  attacked  by  disease ;  whereas  a  man 
who  lives  in  courage  and  hope,  up  above  all  the  lower 
passions,  in  a  state  of  cheerful  happiness,  is,  from  the 
nature  of  his  feelings,  all  the  time  repelling  the  assaults 
of  disease.  A  man  who  is  buoyant  and  happy  has  a 
strong  chance  for  health.  Add  to  this  the  wickedness 
of  a  demoralizing  indulgence  of  the  passions,  which  is 
always  unhealthy,  and  I  do  not  wonder  that  so  many 
men  break  down ;  I  do  not  wonder  that  our  streets  are 
full  of  shambles  where  our  young  men  are  slaughtered 
in  hecatombs,  especially  when  they  add  to  their  other 
indulgences  that  of  drinking  beyond  all  bounds.  It  is 
strange  to  see  how  men  will  drain  themselves  of  Adtality 
in  the  ways  of  vice.  I  only  marvel  that  men  live  as 
long  as  they  do.  I  wonder  that  they  live  a  year,  when 
sometimes  they  live  five  years  ;  I  wonder  that  they  live 
a  month,  wliere  they  live  a  year.  If  there  were  no 
reason  in  self-respect  to  lead  us  to  check  our  appetites, 
there  is  a  reason  in  health  that  should  make  a  young 
man  afraid  as  death  of  houses  of  dissipation  and  vice. 
You  may  think  there  is  pleasure  there,  and  so  there  is, 
just  enough  to  scum  over  the  cup  of  disease  and  death. 
The  beginnings  of  the  ways  of  vice  may  be  pleasant,  but 
the  ends  thereof  are  damnation. 

I  pass,  next,  to  speak  of  the  care  and  culture  of  your 
minds ;  and  this  part  of  my  discourse  relates  especially 
to  the  young  who  are  under  employers,  and  are  learning 
occupations  that  are  not  themselves  directly  intellectual. 
It  is  not  a  small  thinf;^  for  a  man  to  be  able  to  make 
his  hands  light  by  supplementing  them  with  his  head. 
The  advantage  which  intelligence  gives  a  man  is  very 


PRACTICAL   HINTS.  207 

great.  It  oftentimes  increases  one's  mere  physical 
ability  full  one  half.  Active  thought,  or  quickness  in 
the  use  of  the  mind,  is  very  important  in  teaching  us 
how  to  use  our  hands  rightly  in  every  possible  relation 
and  situation  in  life.  The  use  of  the  head  abridges  the 
labor  of  the  hands.  There  is  no  drudgery,  there  is  no 
mechanical  routine,  there  is  no  minuteness  of  function, 
that  is  not  ad\antaged  by  education.  If  a  man  has 
nothing  to  do  but  to  turn  a  grindstone,  he  had  better 
be  educated ;  if  a  man  has  nothing  to  do  but  to  stick 
pins  on  a  paper,  he  had  better  be  educated ;  if  he  has 
to  sweep  the  streets,  he  had  better  be  educated.  It 
makes  no  difference  what  you  do,  you  wiU  do  it  better 
if  you  are  educated.  An  intelligent  man  knows  how 
to  bring  knowledge  to  bear  upon  whatever  he  has  to 
do.  It  is  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  a  stupid  man 
makes  a  better  laborer  than  one  who  is  intelligent.  If 
I  wanted  a  man  to  drain  my  farm,  or  merely  to  throw  the 
dirt  out  from  a  ditch,  I  would  not  get  a  stupid  drudge 
if  I  could  help  it.  In  times  when  armies  have  to  pass 
through  great  hardships,  it  is  the  stupid  soldiers  that 
break  down  quickest;  while  the  men  of  intelligence, 
who  have  mental  resources,  hold  out  longest.  It  is  a 
common  saying  that  blood  will  always  tell  in  horses :  I 
know  that  intelligence  will  tell  in  men. 

AMiatever  your  occupation  may  be,  it  is  worth  your 
while  to  be  a  man  of  thought  and  intellectual  resources. 
It  is  worth  your  while  to  be  educated  thoroughly  for 
any  business.  If  you  are  a  mechanic  or  tradesman, 
education  is  good  enough  for  you,  and  you  are  good 
enough  for  it.  Sometimes  wonder  is  expressed  that  a 
man  who  has  been  throu^-h  collefire,  and  who  is  there- 


208  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG   MEX. 

fore  supposed  to  be  educated,  should  bury  himself  in 
business.  But  why  should  he  not  ?  Has  not  a  mer- 
chant a  right  to  be  an  educated  man  ?  Do  you  suppose 
a  man  has  no  rioiit  to  an  education  unless  he  is  coinfjc 
to  be  a  doctor,  a  minister,  a  lawyer,  or  some  kind  of  a 
public  man  ?  I  affirm  the  right  of  every  man  in  the 
community  to  an  education.  A  man  should  educate 
himself  for  his  own  sake,  even  if  his  education  should 
benefit  no  one  else  in  the  world.  Every  man's  educa- 
tion does,  however,  benefit  others  besides  himself. 
There  is  no  calling,  except  that  of  slave-catching,  for 
Christian  governments,  that  is  not  made  better  by 
brains.  No  matter  what  a  man's  work  is,  he  is  a  better 
man  for  having  had  a  thorough  mind-drilling.  If  you 
are  to  be  a  farmer,  go  to  college  or  to  the  academy, 
first.  If  you  are  to  be  a  mechanic,  and  you  have  an 
opportunity  of  getting  an  education,  get  that  first.  If 
you  mean  to  follow  the  lowest  calling,  —  one  of  those 
callings  termed  "  menial,  "  —  do  not  be  ignorant ;  have 
knowledge.  A  man  can  do  without  luxuries  and 
wealth  and  public  honors,  but  not  without  knowledge. 
Poverty  is  not  disreputable,  but  ignorance  is. 

One  of  the  things  w^hich  our  age  and  which  this  land 
has  to  develop,  is  the  compatibility  of  manual  labor 
with  real  refinement  and  education.  This  is  to  be  one 
of  the  problems  of.  the  age.  We  must  &how  that 
knowledge  is  not  the  monopoly  of  professions,  not  the 
privilege  of  wealth,  not  the  prerogative  of  leisure,  but 
that  knowledge  and  refinement  belong  to  hard-working 
men  as  much  as  to  any  other  class  of  men.  And  I 
hope  to  see  the  day  wlien  there  will  be  educated  day- 
laborers,   educated   mechanics,    refined    and    educated 


PRACTICAL    IILNTS.  209 

farmers  and  ship-masters ;  for  we  must  carry  out  into 
practice  our  theory  of  men's  equality,  and  of  common 
worth  in  matters  of  education.  We  must  endeavor  to 
inspire  every  calling  in  life  with  an  honest  ambition 
for  intelligence.  There  is  no  calling  that  will  not  he 
lifted  up  by  it.  AYhatever  may  be  your  business,  then, 
make  it  a  point  to  get  from  it,  or  in  spite  of  it,  a  good 
education. 

Never  whine  over  what  you  may  suppose  to  be  the 
loss  of  early  opportunities.  A  great  many  men  have 
good  early  opportunities  who  never  improve  them  ;  and 
many  have  lost  their  early  opportunities  without  losing 
much.  Every  man  may  educate  himself  that  wishes 
to.  It  is  the  will  that  makes  the  w^ay.  Many  a  slave 
that  wanted  knowledge  has  listened  while  his  master's 
children  were  saying  their  letters  and  putting  them 
together  to  form  easy  w^ords,  and  thus  caught  the  first 
elements  of  spelling ;  and  then,  lying  flat  on  his  belly 
before  the  raked-up  coals  and  embers,  with  a  stolen 
book,  has  learned  to  read  and  write.  If  a  man  has 
such  a  thirst  for  knowledge  as  that,  I  do  not  care  where 
you  put  him,  he  will  become  an  educated  man. 

Hugh  Miller,  the  quarry  man,  became  one  of  the 
most  learned  men  in  natural  science  in  the  Old  World. 
Ptoger  Sherman  came  up  from  a  shoemaker's  bench. 
A  blacksmith  may  become  a  universal  linguist.  You 
can  educate  yourself.  Where  there  is  a  will  there  is  a 
way ;  and  in  almost  every  business  of  life  there  is  much 
which  demands  reading,  study,  and  thinking.  Every 
mechanic  should  make  himself  a  respectable  mathe- 
matician. He  ought  to  understand  the  principles  of 
his  business:  and  if,  v/hen-  -he  -has  been  em:ra']:ed  in  it 


210  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG  MEN. 

five  or  ten  years,  lie  has  never  had  the  interest  to  search 
out  such  of  those  principles  as  are  within  liis  reach,  it 
is  a  sign  that  he  is  without  laudable  ambition.  Every 
man  who  has  to  do  with  construction  should  have  a 
knowledge  of  the  philosophy  of  mechanics. 

A  clerk  in  a  dry-goods  store  has  an  encyclopaedia  on 
his  shelves.  If  he  will  trace  back  the  fabrics  to  the 
countries  from  whence  they  came ;  if  he  will  learn  of 
what  materials  they  are  composed,  the  climate  of  the 
country  in  which  each  grew,  the  nature  of  the  soil  in 
which  each  was  produced,  the  kind  of  people  by  whom 
each  article  was  wrought,  the  process  by  which  it  was 
made,  the  character  of  the  machinery  employed  in  its 
manufacture ;  and  will  seek  to  answer  the  thousands 
of  questions  which  are  suggested  to  the  mind  by  the 
color,  the  figure,  etc.,  of  the  various  articles  by  which 
he  is  surrounded,  he  will  find  that  there  is  in  any 
ordinary  store  of  dry-goods  more  than  a  man  could 
learn  in  a  lifetime.  If  all  the  knowledge  that  would 
be  required  to  trace  out  the  facts  relating  to  all  the 
fabrics  in  Stewart's  store  were  to  be  written,  Appleton's 
bookstore  would  hardly  hold  the  books  that  it  would 
filL  But  if  the  clerk  stands  in  the  store  with  his  hands 
behind  him,  thinking  that  his  only  business  is  to  sell 
dry-goods,  his  goods  will  not  be  half  so  dry  as  he  is. 
It  is  a  shame  for  men  to  remain  ignorant  in  the  midst 
of  provocatives  to  knowledge.  There  should  be  so 
strong  a  hunger  for  knowledge  among  men,  that  no 
provocatives  would  be  required  to  induce  them  to 
obtain  it.  It  is  a  disgrace  for  a  man  to  be  ignorant 
that  has  lived  five  years  a  freeman  in  a  free  community. 
If  he  comes  under  tlie  bankrupt  law  and  pleads  stu- 
pidity, that  is  another  thing. 


PEACTICAL   HINTS.  211 

Life  itself,  moreover,  is  an  academy.  There  is  some- 
thing to  be  learned  from  everybody,  in  every  place, 
about  everything.  A  man  that  has  eyes  and  ears,  and 
uses  them,  can  go  nowhere  without  finding  himself  a 
pupil  and  everybody  a  teacher.  Conceit  it  is,  a  con- 
temptible satisfaction  with  your  present  state,  a  com- 
placent pride,  that  stagnates  all  your  faculties,  and 
leads  you  up  and  down  the  street,  among  all  sorts  of 
men,  collecting  nothing.  Every  ride  in  a  car,  every 
^yalk  in  the  street,  every  sail  in  a  boat,  every  visit  to 
the  store,  the  shop,  or  the  dwelling,  should  make  you  a 
richer  man  in  knowledge.  You  should  never  return 
w^ithout  some  conscious  increase  of  information. 

Eemember,  too,  in  respect  to  this  matter  of  education, 
that  you  are  a  citizen,  and  that  you  are  bound  to  have 
that  information  which  shall  qualify  you  for  an  honest 
participation  in  public  affairs.  You  are  also  bound  to 
have  a  knowledge  of  current  events,  which  no  man 
can  have  who  does  not  read  the  newspapers.  News- 
papers are  the  schoolmasters  of  the  common  people. 
The  newspaper  is  one  of  the  things  that  we  may  felici- 
tate ourselves  upon.  That  endless  book,  the  news- 
paper, is  our  national  glory.  For  example,  how  many 
of  our  young  men  and  young  women,  now  that  Europe 
stands  all  ajar,  wdien  apparently  new  combinations  are 
to  take  place  upon  a  scale  that  is  gigantic,  such  as  may 
take  place  but  once  in  tlie  course  of  their  lifetime,  — 
how  many  young  men  and  women  are  2:)reparing  them- 
selves to  follow  these  events  ?  How  many  have  taken 
down  tlie  atlas,  and  marked  out  the  lines  of  France,  of 
the  Italian  provinces,  of  the  Austrian  Empire,  and  of 
the  Prussian   Empire  ?     How  many  have   drawn  the 


212  LECTUKES   TO    YOU^^G    MEN. 

boundaries  of  Tuscany,  acquainted  themselves  with  the 
position  of  Turin,  and  traced  the  course  of  the  Ticino  ? 
How  many  know  wliere  Piedmont  is  located  ? 

When  I  was  a  lad  some  ten  years  old,  I  had  the  priv- 
ileo'e  of  cjoinsr  to  school  to  a  farmer's  son,  who  was  him- 
self  a  farmer  and  also  a  captain  of  the  militia.  I  rec- 
ollect to  have  heard  my  father  say  of  him,  that  he  had 
studied  military  affairs  in  his  quiet  career  so  thoroughly, 
that  probably  there  was  not  another  man  in  the  State 
of  Connecticut  that  could  detail  so  fully  the  history  and 
philosophy  of  all  the  campaigns  of  Napoleon  as  he. 
This  w^as  a  mere  incidental  remark  made  at  the  table, 
but  it  has  had  a  great  deal  to  do  with  my  life.  It 
opened  to  me  the  idea,  though  I  did  not  know  it 
then,  that  a  workingman  in  humble  circumstances 
might,  by  ordinary  diligence,  put  himself  in  possession 
of  information  that  should  be  world-wide. 

I  can  say,  also,  that  in  an  early  day  my  own  mind 
was  very  much  interested  in  the  peninsular  war  be- 
tween the  French  and  Spanish  and  English  armies,  in 
Spain.  I  was  so  interested  in  the  events  connected 
with  that  war,  that  I  carefully  read  Napier's  matchless 
history  of  it,  —  one  of  the  noblest  monuments  of  mili- 
tary history  ever  given  to  the  world.  I  studied  mi- 
nutely, with  map  in  hand,  that  whole  campaign.  I 
never  read  a  book  in  college,  or  during  the  whole  course 
of  my  life,  that  did  me  half  so  much  good  as  that  liis- 
tory,  though  it  was  a  matter  but  incidental  to  my  pro- 
fession. 

Now,  do  not  suppose  that  to  obtain  this  information 
of  current  events  in  your  own  land,  or  u})on  the  broad 
theater  of  the  world,  will  require  a  great  deal  of  time 


PEACTICAL    HINTS.  213 

which  you  must  withdraw  from  other  things.  Almost 
every  man  wastes  as  many  live  minutes  and  ten  min- 
utes as  he  would  require  to  give  himself  a  good  educa- 
tion. You  throw  away  time  enough  to  make  you  a  wise 
man,  both  in  book  literature  and  current  events.  A 
volume  read  a  little  every  morning  wastes  away  most 
rapidly.  A  man  that  is  much  occupied,  in  the  course 
of  a  year,  Avould  have  leisure  in  the  crevices  of  his  time 
if  he  toolv  the  parings,  the  rinds  of  it ;  if  he  took  a  little 
in  the  morning  before  others  were  up,  and  he  might 
take  a  great  deal  then,  if  he  got  up  when  he  ought  to ; 
if  he  took  a  little  before  each  meal  and  a  little  after 
each  meal ;  if  he  took  a  little  on  his  way  to  his  busi- 
ness and  a  little  on  his  way  back  from  his  business ;  if 
he  took  a  little  while  riding  in  the  cars  and  a  little 
while  crossing  the  ferries,  —  I  say  that  even  a  much- 
occupied  man  would,  in  the  course  of  one  year,  have 
leisure  in  these  crevices  of  his  time  to  make  himself  mas- 
ter of  the  history  of  his  own  country.  It  does  not  take 
a  man  a  great  while  to  read  a  book  through,  if  he  only 
keeps  at  it. 

A  history  of  the  institutions  of  the  country,  its  laws 
and  its  polity ;  a  history  of  the  principal  nations  of  the 
world,  their  manners  and  their  customs  ;  a  history  of 
the  physical  globe,  its  geology,  its  geograpliy,  and  its 
natural  productions ;  and  some  knowledge  of  the  arts 
and  of  the  fine  arts,  —  may  be  had  by  every  laboring  man, 
every  clerk,  and  every  woman.  There  is  no  excuse  for 
you  if  you, do  not  understand  these  things.  You  do 
not  need  to  go  to  school,  to  a  college,  or  to  an  academy 
to  learn  them.  They  are  published  in  books,  and  the 
books  are  accessible.     Somebody  has  got  them.     You 


214  LECTUItES   TO   YOUNG   MEN. 

need  not  advertise  in  the  newspapers,  asking  for  a  man 
who  will  lend  you  an  encyclopaedia.  You  can  learn 
something  eveiywhere.  Everybody  can  tell  you  some- 
thing. Ask  for  knowledge,  if  you  desire  it.  If  you 
were  hungry,  I  do  not  believe  you  would  starve.  I 
think  you  would  ask  for  food  before  you  would  die.  I 
think  you  would  work  for  bread  before  you  would 
perish.  And  you  ought  to  be  ten  times  as  hungry  for 
knowledge  as  for  food  for  the  body. 

Among  the  finest  pictures  in  the  Boston  Athenaeum, 
and  the  finest  part  of  the  library  of  the  Massachusetts 
Historical  Collection,  you  will  find  those  pictures  and 
books  which  were  collected  and  bound  during  the  life- 
time, and  donated  at  the  death,  of  a  man  who  spent  his 
days  in  the  active  practice  of  a  mechanical  employment. 
He  was  a  leather-dresser.  He  bought  the  best  books 
and  read  them,  and  then  secured  for  them  the  very  best 
dress,  —  for  a  good  book  deserves  a  good  dress,  —  and  at 
his  death  he  gave  them  to  these  public  institutions ; 
and  they  are  valuable  beyond  what  they  would  bring  in 
market  as  so  much  treasure.  I  never  look  at  those 
books  in  the  Massachusetts  Historical  Collection,  and 
at  those  pictures  in  the  Boston  Athenaeum,  without 
thinkiniy  how  much  a  mechanic  can  do. 

o 

Here  was  a  man  who  ^^'as  fond  of  art,  and  who  built 
himself  up  in  knowledge,  nothwithstanding  his  business 
was  that  of  a  tanner.  This  business,  however,  even 
though  there  be  a  Scriptural  precedent  for  it,  is  not  an 
inviting  one.  The  class  of  men  engaged  in  that  busi- 
ness now  have  no  particular  taste  for  the  fine  arts  ;  but 
the  time  has  been  when  they  had,  and  the  time  may 
come  when  they  will  have  again.     There  is  no  business 


PRACTICAL   HINTS.  215 

SO  derogatory  that  culture  is  not  compatible  with  it. 
The  trouble  is,  men  do  not  want  to  know,  or  else  they 
are  lazy. 

Why  should  you,  an  apprentice  or  a  clerk  or  a  day- 
workman,  not  wish  to  see  galleries  of  pictures  as  much 
as  I  or  any  other  man  ?  I  see  that  there  is  a  great 
deal  of  enthusiasm  about  Church's  picture,  and  I  do  not 
wonder  at  it.  I  am  proud  of  the  picture  and  of  the  man 
who  painted  it.  But  I  go  among  some  classes  of  people, 
and  hear  not  one  word  about  it.  Xow,  why  should  not 
a  blacksmith,  as  well  as  any  other  man,  say,  "  I  have 
heard  that  there  is  a  splendid  picture  on  exhibition  up 
town,  and  I  am  going  to  see  it "  ?  Why  should  not  a 
man  who  wields  the  broad-axe  say,  "  I  am  going  to  see 
it"?  Then  there  is  the  Academy  of  Design.  I  look, 
and  those  I  see  there  are  principally  richly  dressed 
people.  I  am  not  sorry  to  see  persons  in  silk  and 
satin  and  broadcloth  there  ;  but  I  am  sorry  not  to  see 
there  more  clerks  and  workingmen.  I  am  astonished 
that  I  do  not  see  more  there  from  among  the  fifty 
thousand  clerks  and  the  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
laboring  men  in  New  York,  when  I  remember  that 
fifty  cents  will  give  a  person  permission  to  go  there 
as  much  as  he  pleases  during  a  whole  season.  The 
trouble  is,  they  are  hungry  in  the  stomach  and  not  in 
the  head.  People  should  be  hungry  with  the  eye  and 
the  ear  as  well  as  with  the  mouth.  If  all  a  man's 
necessaries  of  life  go  in  at  the  port-hole  of  the  stomach, 
it  is  a  bad  sign.  A  man's  intelligence  should  be 
regarded  by  him  as  of  more  importance  than  the 
gratification  of  his  physical  desires.  I  long  to  see  my 
countrymen  universally  intelligent.     I  long  to  see  those 


216  LECTURES    TO   YOUNG    MEN. 

in  the  lower  walks  of  life  building  themselves  np  in  all 
true  appetites  and  relishes  and  tastes.  I  love  to  see 
them  aspiring  after  knowledge  and  refinement,  and  em- 
ploying the  means  required  to  obtain  them.  In  this 
way,  should  you  never  become  rich,  you  can  afford  to 
be  poor.  A  woman  who  does  not  know  anything  can- 
not afford  to  live  in  an  attic,  and  sew  for  five  cents  a 
shirt,  half  so  well  as  one  who  is  intelligent.  A  woman 
who  has  a  soul  that  can  appreciate  God's  blessings,  that 
can  read  his  secrets  in  nature,  that  can  see  his  love  for 
his  creatures  displayed  in  all  his  works,  —  she,  if  any- 
body, can  bear  that  hardship.  I  pity  the  drudge  that 
has  no  intelligence  or  refinement.  If  I  see  poor  people 
that  have  cultivated  minds,  I  say,  "  Thank  God,  they 
have  so  much,  at  least."  There  are  none  that  stand 
hardship  so  well  as  those  who  are  cultivated.  If,  hav- 
ing secured  intelligence  and  refinement,  you  ever  do 
become  rich,  you  will  not  be  dependent  upon  your 
wealth  for  happiness,  and  therefore  you  will  not  be  in 
danger  of  the  vulgar  ostentation  of  crude  riches. 

There  are  two  things  that  delight  my  very  soul. 
First,  I  delight  to  see  a  hard-working  and  honest 
laboring  man,  especially  if  he  has  some  dirty  calling 
like  that,  for  instance,  of  a  butcher,  a  tallow -cliandler, 
or  a  dealer  in  fish  or  oil,  —  I  deliglit  to  see  such  a  man 
get  rich,  by  fair  and  open  methods,  and  then  go  and 
build  him  a  house  in  the  best  neighborhood  in  the 
place,  and  build  it  so  that  everybody  says,  "  He  has  got 
a  fine  house,  and  it  is  in  good  taste  too."  It  does  me 
good,  it  makes  me  fat  to  the  very  marrow,  to  see  him 
do  that.  And,  next,  when  he  prospers,  I  delight  to  see 
him,  after  he  has  built  his  house  so  as  to  adapt  it  to  all 


PRACTICAL    HINTS.  217 

the  purposes  of  a  household,  employ  his  wealth  with 
such  judicious  taste,  and  manifest  such  an  appreciation 
of  thing's  fine  and  beautiful,  that  it  shall  say  to  the 
world,  with  silent  words  louder  than  any  vocalization, 
"A  man  may  be  a  workiugnian  and  follow  a  menial 
calling,  and  yet  carry  Avithin  him  a  noble  soul  and  have 
a  cultivated  and  refined  nature."  I  like  to  see  men 
that  have  been  chrysalids  break  their  covering  and  come 
out  with  all  the  beautiful  colors  of  the  butterfly. 

I  have  not  half  exhausted  the  interest  I  feel,  nor  said 
all  that  is  proper  to  be  uttered,  in  reference  to  the  intel- 
ligence of  those  who  are  called  to  labor,  yet  I  will  not 
pursue  this  point  further. 

In  the  last  place,  I  must  not  fail  to  urge  upon  every 
one  the  importance  of  personal  religion  in  his  toil  and 
strife  of  life.  I  urge  it  upon  every  man  as  a  duty 
which  lie  owes  to  God.  I  urge  it  upon  every  man  as 
a  joy  and  comfort  which  he  owes  to  himself.  The 
sweetest  life  that  a  man  can  live  is  that  which  is  keyed 
to  love  tow\ard  God  and  love  tow^ard  man.  I  urge  it 
upon  the  young  especially  as  a  safeguard  and  help  in 
all  parts  of  their  life.  I  urge  it,  lastly,  upon  every 
man  as  a  preparation  for  that  great  and  solemn  event 
Avhich  bounds  every  man's  life,  and  which  cannot  be  far 
off  from  any  man. 

I  shall  close  this  discourse  by  reading  words  which, 
though  written  three  thousand  years  ago,  come  rolling 
down  to  us  from  the  past  without  having  lost  one 
single  particle  of  freshness,  and  whicli  are  just  as  true 
now  as  they  have  been  at  any  intermediate  age  since 
they  were  first  uttered  :  — 

"  Trust  in  the  Lord  with  all  thine  heart,  and  lean  not 

10 


218  LECTURES   TO    YOUNG   MEN. 

unto  thine  own  understanding.  In  all  thy  ways  ac- 
knowledge him,  and  he  shall  direct  thy  paths.  Be  not 
wise  in  thine  own  eyes  ;  fear  the  Lord,  and  depart  from 
evil.  It  shall  be  health  to  thy  navel  and  marrow  to 
thy  bones.  Honor  the  Lord  with  thy  substance  and 
with  the  first-fruits  of  all  thy  increase;  so  shall  thy 
barns  l)e  filled  with  plenty,  and  thy  presses  shall  burst 
out  with  new  \Aane.  My  son,  despise  not  the  chasten- 
ing of  the  Lord,  neither  be  weary  of  his  correction  ;  for 
whom  the  Lord  loveth  he  correcteth,  even  as  a  father 
the  son  in  whom  he  delighteth.  Happy  is  the  man 
that  findeth  wisdom  and  the  man  that  gettetli  under- 
standing ;  for  the  merchandise  of  it  is  better  than  the 
merchandise  of  silver,  and  the  gain  thereof  than  fine 
gold.  She  is  more  j)recious  than  rubies ;  and  all  the 
things  thou  canst  desire  are  not  to  be  compared  unto 
her.  Length  of  days  is  in  her  right  hand,  and  in  her 
left  hand  riches  and  honor.  Her  ways  are  ways  of 
pleasantness,  and  all  her  paths  are  peace.  She  is  a 
tree  of  life  to  them  that  lay  hold  upon  her,  and  happy 
is  every  one  that  retaineth  her."     Amen  and  amen. 


/r:A 


.f- 


V<^^>C^'^'f^^^-^ 


IX. 


PROFANE    SWEARING. 

**BUT  ABOVE  ALL  THINGS,  MY  BRETHREN,  SWEAR  NOT,  NEITHER  BY 
HEAVEN,  NEITHER  BY  THE  EARTH,  NEITHER  BY  ANY  OTHER 
OATH  :  BUT  LET  YOUR  YEA  BE  YEA,  AND  YOUR  NAY,  NAY,  LEST  YE 
FALL  INTO  CONDEMNATION."  —  JaS.  V.  12. 


^(s^^^^^HEEE  is  a  great  deal  of  difference  between 
a  judicial  oath  and  profane  swearing.  Both 
,^,^-:.^.,W  of  them  are  an  appeal  to  higher  powers. 
/^.y^^§^  Both  of  them,  either  directly  or  indirectly, 
imply  a  reference  to  the  authority  and  the  sanctity  of 
God's  judgment.  Where,  for  some  important  end,  men 
make  affirmations  and  bind  themselves  to  the  truth  of 
what  they  say  by  a  solemn  appeal  to  God ;  where  they 
do  it  in  temperate  moments  and  with  reverence  ;  where 
they  do  it,  not  so  much  by  the  motion  of  their  own 
feelings  as  by  the  administration  of  a  tribunal,  and 
under  appointed  forms ;  and  where  they  are  in  earnest 
in  thus  giving  solemnity  to  their  statements  of  truth, 
—  not  only  do  they  not  violate  reverence  nor  mar  the 
solemnity  that  should  always  attend  the  name  of  God, 
but  they  enliance  these  elements  of  veneration.  On 
the  other  hand,  when  men  without  a  purpose,  on  the 
most  trivial  occasions,  in  a  manner  worse  than  light, 
inspired  by  angry  and  violent  feeling,  bring  out  the 


220  LECTUKES   TO    YOUNG   MEX. 

name  of  God  or  of  sacred  things  to  be  trodden  under 
foot  of  their  passions,  they  do  great  irreverence  to  God 
or  to  these  sacred  things,  and  therefore  do  themselves 
great  harm. 

If  an  oath  be  administered  by  a  civil  magistrate,  it 
does  not  lie  under  the  condemnation  of  Scripture ;  and 
yet,  I  am  bound  to  say  in  passing,  that  the  manner  in 
which  oaths  are  administered  by  civil  magistrates  in 
our  courts  of  justice  is  such  as  to  make  it  almost  desir- 
able that  they  should  be  entirely  dispensed  with.  It 
has  become  wellnigh  a  farce.  These  oaths  have  ceased 
to  be  consciously  appeals  to  God.  They  are  the  emptiest 
formalities.  They  add  very  little  to  the  sanctity  of  the 
statements  that  are  made.  A  person  who  has  conscience 
will  state  the  truth  under  such  circumstances  without 
an  oath  ;  and  a  person  who  is  without  conscience  will 
not  state  it  any  more  nearly  under  an  oath. 

Profane  swearing,  however,  is  seldom  an  appeal  for 
the  confirmation  of  anything.  It  is  an  aimless  and 
useless  employment  of  the  Divine  name.  It  is  generally 
accompanied  with  cursing.  There  is  a  difference  be- 
tween cursing  and  swearing.  Swearing  is  some  mode 
of  reference  to  the  divine  Being  and  divine  things  and 
sanctities  ;  w^hereas  cursing  is  a  solicitation  of  evil  upon 
a  fellows-man  or  some  other  object. 

When  we  consider  that  the  best  thoughts  of  men  and 
their  highest  and  noblest  qualities  are  involved  in  their 
religion,  in  their  conception  of  the  divine  Being,  and  of 
the  place  where  he  dwells,  profane  swearing  can  mean 
nothing  less  than  the  habit  of  using  vulgarly  and  grossly 
tliose  most  sacred  thoughts  of  the  liuman  mind. 

It  would  seem  as  though  this  were  impossible.     It 


PROFANE   SWEARING.  221 

would  seem  as  though  men  could  scarcely  be  brought 
to  empty  their  minds  of  the  very  treasures,  the  best 
things  which  belong  to  humanity,  that  they  might  be 
trodden  under  foot;  but  so  it  is. 

There  is  no  evil  more  widespread  than  that  of  pro- 
fane swearing.  Physicians  know  that  after  our  war, 
when  our  soldiers  disbanded,  they  carried  from  their 
camps  to  their  homes,  in  cities  and  villages  and  country 
places,  many  infectious  disorders,  and  that  for  years  the 
medical  practitioner  had  largely  to  do  with  camp  dis- 
eases, or  variations  of  them. 

And  there  were  many  other  mischiefs  that  went 
with  the  war.  Among  them  was  the  more  general 
outbreaking  of  profanity.  It  is  stated  by  those  who 
are  to  be  believed,  that  it  existed  very  largely  in  the 
armies  and  in  the  camj)s ;  that  men  who  had  never 
sworn  at  home  learned  the  bad  trick  in  the  army ;  and 
that  even  members  of  the  church,  professedly  Christian 
men,  indulged  themselves  in  this  guilty  luxury.  And 
it  seems  to  me  that  there  has  broken  out,  amonsr  the 
young  and  among  others,  a  greater  license.  I  hope  I 
am  mistaken,  but  it  has  seemed  to  me  as  though  there 
was  more  facility  in  the  use  of  profane  language,  as 
thougli  it  had  crept  into  circles  where  before  it  was 
principally  disallowed,  and  as  though  lips  indulged 
themselves  in  the  milder  forms  of  objurgation  or  im- 
precation that  at  other  times  had  been  clean  of  such 
impurity.  I  think,  therefore,  that  it  is  not  untimely 
for  me  to  discuss  before  you  the  nature  of  profane 
swearing  and  the  evils  that  accompany  it. 

Men  often  answer,  when  they  are  reprehended,  that 
swearing  is  a  mere  superficial  habit ;  that  it  is  not  really 


222  LECTUEES  TO   YOUNG  MEN. 

and  seriously  meant ;  that  the  imprecations  which  they 
utter  are  all  empty  and  shallow  ;  that  they  do  not  mean 
what  they  say.  Sometimes  they  tell  you  that  they 
could  lay  aside  swearing  without  the  least  difficulty. 
At  other  times  they  tell  you  that  it  is  a  thing  which 
they  could  not  possibly  cure  themselves  of.  They  in- 
sist that  at  any  rate  it  is  but  a  skin  disease,  and  that  a 
man  may  be  a  noble  fellow,  warm-hearted,  robust,  truth- 
telling,  faithful  to  obligations,  industrious,  moral,  and  in 
the  main  a  good  son  or  father  and  neighbor,  though  he 
be  addicted  a  little  to  swearing.  The  habit  of  swearing 
is  a  mere  interjectional  habit,  men  say. 

It  is  worth  our  while,  therefore,  to  look  a  little  into 
it,  and  see  if  it  be  so  mild  a  fault. 

What,  then,  is  the  effect  of  swearing  upon  taste  and 
the  moral  sensibilities  ?  It  takes  away  from  the  highest 
themes  their  sanctity,  and  from  the  noblest  names  their 
grandeur.  Irreverence  for  the  best  thoughts  of  man- 
kind, —  can  that  be  harmless  ?  Are  men  by  nature  or 
by  practice  so  addicted  to  reverence  that  it  can  do 
them  but  little  harm  to  lower  the  tone  and  intensity 
of  it  ?  Are  men  so  filled  with  a  sense  of  the  glories  of 
the  invisible,  of  the  overruling  powers,  that  it  can  do 
them  no  harm  if  you  take  away  from  them  the  sense 
of  God,  present  with  us  ?  Is  it  a  light  thing  to  have  all 
our  ideals  debased  ?  Is  it  a  light  thing  to  have  a  man's 
noble  and  moral  imaginations  stained  and  daubed  by 
his  passions  ?  Is  it  a  light  matter  so  utterly  to  destroy 
veneration  that  there  is  none  in  the  heaven  iibove  and 
none  in  all  the  universe  that  is  so  high  but  that  a 
man  can  take  His  name  as  a  football  for  his  passions  ? 
Is  it  a  small  thing  to  destroy  men's  reverence  for  those 


PROFANE   SWEARING.  223 

names,  those  personages  that  are  of  transcendent  dignity 
and  importance  ?  Is  it  a  small  thing  so  far  as  the  per- 
son himself  is  concerned  ? 

Try  it  on  a  more  familiar  plane.  Is  it  of  no  impor- 
tance that  the  names  of  those  whom  you  love  are  kept 
free  from  reproach  and  sacred  ?  Would  you,  that 
have  spirit  and  are  faithful  to  your  friendships,  permit 
men  to  soil  the  names  of  those  who  are  nearest  and 
dearest  to  you  with  foul  epithets  or  with  gross  familiar- 
ity ?  ^Yould  you  not  stop  them  on  the  moment  ?  And 
why  is  it,  but  that  men  feel  everywhere  without  reflec- 
tion, spontaneously,  that  friendship  and  the  sense  of 
delicacy  and  honor,  as  they  inhere  in  the  names  of  those 
who  are  dearly  related  to  them,  are  marred  and  tar- 
nished when  those  names  are  abused  ?  Would  you 
yourself  be  willing,  would  you  dare,  to  use  the  names 
of  your  father  and  your  mother  so  that  there  should 
perish  from  them  the  associations  which  you  had  of  the 
dignities  and  sweetnesses  of  the  household,  —  the  mean- 
ings which  make  father  and  mother  words  of  music  to 
you,  which  sound  in  your  memory  and  kindle  up  your 
ideals  ?  "Would  you,  in  the  outburst  of  your  passions, 
damn  your  father  and  curse  your  mother,  and  roll  these 
names  round  in  the  wallow  and  filth  of  earthly  things  ? 
Does  not  every  man  shrink  from  it  as  a  thing  monstrous 
and  unnatural  ?  Would  you,  if  your  mother  were  passed 
away,  swear  by  her  name  ?  Would  you  curse  by  her 
memory  ?  Would  you,  with  all  ingenious  combinations, 
point  the  edge  of  your  affirmation  by  intense  passions 
with  your  mother's  name  ?  You  know  you  would  not. 
A  very  beast  you  would  conceive  yourself  to  be  if  you 
did.     Would  you,  young  man,  proud  of  your  sister,  to 


224  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG   MEN. 

whom  she  is  as  a  flower,  —  you  who  rejoice  to  hear  her 
praises,  —  permit  her  name  to  be  abused  or  tossed  from 
lip  to  lip  ?  There  is  something  generous  in  a  brother's 
love,  as  well  as  something  devoted  in  a  sister's  love ; 
and  if  you  walked  among  your  companions  and  they 
employed  her  name,  so  dear  to  you,  so  full  of  sweet- 
ness and  delicacy,  in  such  a  way  as  to  vulgarize  it  by 
familiarity,  would  there  not  be  war  between  you  and 
them,  and  would  you  not  feel,  "  I  cannot  afford  to  have 
a  name  in  which  is  treasured  so  much  of  my  life  hum- 
bled and  degraded  "  ?  Who  that  had  passed  from  the 
state  of  the  lover  into  the  wedded  relation  would  per- 
mit his  wife's  name  to  be  shamefully  debased,  lowered, 
by  being  mouthed  by  men  for  vulgar  purposes  ? 

There  is  not  a  single  one  of  the  relationships  of  life, 
that  could  be  used  as  profane  men  use  the  name  of 
God,  except  by  the  most  degraded  of  men. 

Now  is  this  irreverential  use  of  sacred  names  of  no 
consequence  ?  Is  objection  to  it  a  mere  illusion  ?  Is 
not  the  practice,  on  the  contrary,  depressing  and  de- 
stroying? It  is.  When,  therefore,  men  take  those 
names  which  are  above  every  other  name,  out  of 
which  come  fatlur  and  mother,  —  the  name  of  God  the 
Creator,  and  of  Jesus  Christ  the  Saviour,  and  of  the 
Holy  Ghost  the  Enlightener,  —  and  degrade  them; 
when  men  bring  down  these  august  titles  and  employ 
them  in  their  most  familiar  speech,  in  the  indulgence 
of  their  passions,  in  their  brutal  wassails,  —  they  are 
destroying  the  very  bloom,  the  very  sensibility,  the 
very  moral  quality,  of  their  nature. 

You  say  that  it  does  not  do  you  any  hurt  to  swear. 
I  say  it  does.     You  say  that  a  man  may  be  generous 


PROFANE   SWEARING.  225 

and  truth-speaking,  though  he  swear.  I  say  that  it  is 
impossible  for  a  man  to  sweep  out  of  the  heavens,  as 
with  a  sponge,  all  the  sacredness  of  God,  and  be  as 
good  a  man  as  he  was  before.  I  say  that  it  takes  the 
temper  out  of  a  man's  honor.  I  say  that  it  essentially 
lowers  a  man's  being,  to  be  a  profane  swearer.  You 
may  think  that  it  is  a  trifling  vice,  a  foible ;  but  I  say 
that  it  is  an  essential  degradation,  that  it  is  a  central 
sin,  for  a  man  to  destroy  his  reverence  for  that  which 
is  noblest  and  best. 

At  the  very  beginning,  therefore,  profane  swearing, 
this  irreverential  use  of  divine  names  and  divine 
thoughts,  deteriorates  a  man's  moral  tone.  It  lowers 
him  in  fhe  scale  of  being. 

There  is  another  fact  following  this,  which  we  should 
do  well  to  measure  and  consider,  namely,  that  while 
we  are  thus  injuring  our  own  selves,  we  are  at  the  same 
time  corrupting  others,  since  swearing  of  necessity  is 
public,  since  it  is  open,  and  falls  upon  the  ears  of  those 
who  are  around  about  us,  setting  an  example  which  will 
be  peculiarly  seductive  to  persons  of  a  susceptible  tem- 
perament, —  to  the  imitative,  the  sympathetic,  the  heed- 
less, the  uncultured. 

There  are  many  vices  which  destroy  men  themselves, 
where  they  are,  as  it  is  said,  "  their  own  worst  enemies." 
But  while  profane  swearing,  or  an  irreverential  dealing 
with  sacred  themes,  injures  the  man  himself  more  or 
less,  it  also  injures  those  who  are  associated  with  him. 
It  takes  away  the  purity  and  tlie  beauty  of  sacred 
things  to  those  who  are  not  accustomed  to  it.  The 
man  who  in  the  shop  is  not  guarded  in  his  conversa- 
tion, and  who  is  perpetually  pouring  out  violent  oaths. 
10*  o 


226  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG  MEN. 

is  essentially  injuring  his  companions  who  work  with 
him  there. 

It  is  accounted  very  discreditable  for  a  man  to  carry 
his  diseases  around  obtrusively  in  the  presence  of  other 
people.  If  a  man  who  had  a  loathsome  itch  should  go 
around  in  refined  society,  rubbing  against  men,  women, 
children,  cleanly  and  respectable  persons,  and  should, 
when  cautioned  against  the  mischief  that  he  was  doing, 
say,  "  Yes,  yes,  yes,  —  a  mere  skin  matter,"  and  should 
go  on  conferring  it  upon  other  men,  what  would  you 
think  of  him  ? 

Young  men,  under  the  influence  of  their  passions, 
infected  with  the  disease  of  swearing,  have  gone  about 
pouring  out  their  billingsgate  and  profane  oaths,  deteri- 
orating not  men's  bodily  conditions,  but  their  moral 
purity,  their  imagination,  taking  star  after  star  out  of 
their  heavens,  and  more  and  more  breaking  the  power 
of  the  great  invisible  world,  in  which  is  man's  true 
strength  and  treasure ;  but  can  one  do  this,  and  stiU 
pretend  to  be  a  man  ? 

If  there  were  such  a  thing  as  a  silent  oath ;  if  there 
were  such  a  thing  as  dry  swearing;  if  a  man  swore 
Tinder  his  handkerchief,  —  there  would  be  less  to  be  rep- 
rehended ;  but  to  go  spewing  out  oaths  along  the  street, 
on  the  deck,  in  the  shop,  where  men  do  congregate,  and 
to  pollute  their  ears,  making  all  that  listen  common 
sewers  of  the  filth,  conveying  it  away,  is  abominable. 
It  is  not  a  mere  foible.  It  is  a  nastiness  which  ought 
to  stamp  every  man  as  a  vulgar  fellow.  You  have  no 
more  right  to  swear  in  my  ear  than  you  have  to  insult 
my  father  and  mother. 

This  leads  me  to  say,  that  while  swearing  is  a  perni- 


PROFANE   SWEARING.  227 

cious  example  to  those  who  are  susceptible,  it  oftentimes 
becomes  excessive  impoliteness  and  unkindness  to  those 
who  are  sensitive  to  the  dignity  and  grandeur  of  the 
divine  Being. 

It  requires  but  very  little  culture  to  have  regard  for 
people's  feelings.  I  will  bring  you  men  that  live  by 
pugilism  who,  where  there  is  sickness  and  death,  ex- 
hibit a  sort  of  clumsy  delicacy.  No  man  would  go 
into  a  house  where  there  was  death,  and  talk  to  those 
who  were  bereaved  in  the  midst  of  their  sorrow  and 
anguish  as  he  would  talk  to  persons  under  ordinary 
circumstances.  Men  make  allowance  for  such  things. 
They  regard  the  feelings  of  their  fellows.  But  the 
swearer  does  not.  He  goes  into  the  midst  of  those  who 
are  shocked  and  hurt  by  profane  oaths,  and  swears  re- 
gardless of  their  suffering. 

God  is  my  Father,  and  when  you  take  his  name 
brutally  upon  your  lips,  you  hurt  me  ;  but  you  have  no 
right  to  hurt  me.  You  hurt  me  more  than  if  you  laid 
your  hand  on  my  person.  You  hurt  me  in  my  highest 
feelings.  You  hurt  me  where  I  am  consciously  striving 
to  build  up  my  true  manhood.  You  throw  your  arrow 
high,  and  it  strikes  near  the  very  heart. 

How  men  sometimes  drop  an  oath  in  the  presence 
of  Christians  on  purpose  to  disturb  their  feelings  !  As 
men  stir  up  a  beleaguered  city,  throwing  in  bombs,  so 
swearers  often  throw  oaths  at  Christian  men  to  stir 
them  up. 

Now,  when  I  am  living  in  the  faith  of  God  and  of 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  with  a  consciousness  that  it  is 
by  the  death  of  the  Saviour  that  I  am  spared ;  when 
I   have   gathered   around   these   names    the    sweetest 


228  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG   MEN. 

thoughts  and  the  purest  sanctities  which  are  possible 
to  the  soul,  and  have  dressed  them  ^Yith  all  that  shall 
make  them  precious  to  my  thought,  my  life,  and  my 
life  to  come,  so  that  all  I  have  is  in  them,  and  so  that 
I  can  say,  "  Chief  among  ten  thousand  and  altogether 
lovely  is  my  Eedeemer,"  — who  is  he  that  profanes  the 
sanctity  of  these  emotions  by  indulging  in  my  presence 
in  vile  and  villainous  oaths  ?  A  man  who  swears,  first 
damages  his  own  moral  sense,  then  misleads  those 
about  him,  and  then  is  guilty  of  cruel  impoliteness  to 
those  to  whom  God's  name  is  sweet  and  sacred. 

Swearing  is  a  mean  thing  for  a  man  to  practice ;  and, 
garnish  it  as  you  will,  if  you  are  a  profane  swearer  you 
are  a  mean  fellow. 

It  is  also  a  matter  of  dread  insult  to  God,  and  there- 
fore a  matter  of  gross  impiety,  a  matter  of  guilt,  and  a 
matter  of  danger.  There  can  be  no  excuse  for  it. 
There  is  no  excuse  for  wickedness  that  is  valid,  but 
there  are  often  many  palliations.  That  is  to  say,  many 
of  the  sins  that  men  commit  are  in  the  line  of  animal 
obedience.  When  one  commits  the  sin  of  intemperance, 
we  know  that  there  is  a  natural  appetite  along  the  line 
of  which  he  may  travel  with  perfect  propriety.  AVe 
know  that  intemperance  in  any  direction  is  simply 
excess  in  right  things ;  and  we  may  say  that  there  is 
some  justification  in  the  temperament  and  constitution. 
Some  have  a  love  of  drinking.  Some  have  a  fiery 
nerve  which  tempts  them  to  drink.  A  man  may  be 
a  glutton,  but  in  becoming  one  he  is  in  the  line  of  the 
indulgence  of  normal  passions.  Lusts,  even,  may  plead 
that  they  are  but  the  unregulated  exercise  of  great  pas- 
sions which  were  implanted  for  wise  purposes  by  the 


PROFANE   SWEARING.  229 

Creator  in  the  constitution  of  man.  But  for  profanity 
there  is  no  such  palliation.  It  does  not  belong  to  any 
great  constitutional  want.  It  is  a  perversion  of  all  that 
is  most  sacred,  highest,  and  most  honorable.  It  is 
without  the  excuse  of  underlying  temptation.  There 
is  no  faculty  of  swearing  implanted  in  the  human  mind. 
There  is  no  natural  tendency  that  way.  It  is  w^anton, 
perverse,  and  without  the  excuse  which  attends  many 
of  the  vices  of  human  nature. 

r 

''xj.  am  sorry  to  say  that  women  swear.  To  what  ex- 
tent the  swearing  of  women  prevails  in  society  I  do 
not  undertake  to  say ;  but  that  there  are  many  who  are 
cultured,  and  who  stand  in  positions  of  some  eminence, 
that  swear,  I  do  know.  And  that  there  is  a  certain 
tendency  in  that  direction,  I  do  know.  AVhile  I  claim 
that  in  the  upward  scale  woman  has  a  right  to  be  the 
equal  of  man  in  everything  tjiat  is  true  and  pure  and 
noble  and  good  and  virtuous,  I  do  say,  for  the  sake  of 
the  sanctity  of  the  name  of  woman,  that  she  has  no 
right  to  seek  an  equality  with  man  in  the  things  that 
are  vulgar  and  base  and  degrading.  Woman  enshrines, 
to  our  thought,  that  which  is  the  sweetest,  the  purest, 
and  the  most  attractive.  In  her  we  look  for  patience 
in  goodness  and  for  disinterested  kindness ;  in  her  we 
believe  God  has  created  a  soul  very  fruitful  in  delica- 
cies and  in  all  beauteous  refinement.  These  qualities 
belong  to  the  constitution  of  woman  more  essentially 
than  to  the  rugged  constitution  of  man.  Man  battles 
wdtli  physical  things,  and  has  sturdier  physical  attain- 
ments. Woman  is  more  in  communion  witli  the  in- 
visible, with  sentiment,  with  worship,  and  with  God. 
We   are   shocked,  therefore,  and   shocked   with   good 


230  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG   MEX. 

reason  and  beyond  measure,  when  we  hear  women 
take  the  name  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  on  their  lips 
with  irreverence.  A  woman  swearing !  a  wife !  a 
mother !  How  dare  she  touch  her  child  !  How  dare 
she  ask  for  a  blessing  of  God !  It  is  a  perversion 
of  the  sex.  It  is  an  outrage  upon  all  who  have  re- 
vered the  purity  and  dignity  and  nobleness  of  woman- 
hood. 

But  there  are  many  who  say,  "  I  swear  without  think- 
ing." How  far  down  has  a  man  gone,  when  you  come 
to  consider  what  profane  swearing  is,  who  can  make 
such  an  excuse  as  this  in  justification  of  himself  ?  If 
a  man  says,  "  I  am  an  honest  man ;  all  my  transactions 
in  life  have  been  scrupulously  honest  in  the  main,  but 
on  one  occasion,  when  I  was  pressed  to  the  uttermost, 
I  did  consent,  though  not  without  a  struggle,  to  mis- 
appropriate funds,"  even  for  that  he  is  condemned. 
But  suppose  a  man  should  say,  "  Well,  I  did  pervert 
trust  funds,  —  that  is  so ;  but  really  I  did  it  without 
thinkim:^."  When  a  man  has  got  so  that  he  does  not 
know  whether  he  is  stealing  or  not,  is  he  justifiable  ? 
Suppose  a  man  who  is  in  the  habit  of  going  into  all  kinds 
of  company,  and  using  the  most  outrageously  obscene 
language,  should,  on  being  complained  of  to  the  police 
and  thrust  out  of  doors,  say,  "  Did  I  talk  so  ?  I  am 
getting  so  that  I  do  not  know  when  I  am  talking 
decently  and  when  I  am  not."  Would  that  be  a 
proper  excuse  ?  And  yet,  when  men  are  checked  and 
rebuked  for  profanity,  they  say,  as  if  that  were  an 
excuse,  "  Really,  we  did  it  without  thinking."  Ah, 
then,  have  you  sunk  so  low  as  that  ? 

Children  of   Christian   parents,  taught  to  lift  your 


PROFANE   SWEARING.  231 

faces  when  you  scarcely  knew  what  it  meant,  and  say, 
"  Our  Father  who  art  in  heaven,"  and  now  blacken  that 
name  with  oaths,  and  not  know  it !  Invoking  from 
heaven  the  terrors  of  Divine  justice  which  overhang  the 
guilt  of  wicked  men,  and  rearing  up  the  ghastly  forms 
of  penalty  from  beneath  ;  doing  it  daily  in  conversation, 
and  havinsj  a  conscience  so  insensitive  and  so  wanting; 
in  delicacy  that  you  say,  "  I  do  it  without  thinking  "  ! 
I  know  you  will  agree  with  me  that  this  is  not  a  valid 
excuse  for  any  man ;  nay,  it  is  self-condemnation. 

Men  say,  "Swearing  is  a  bad  habit,  I  admit;  but  I 
have  insensibly  fallen  into  it  from  the  influence  of  com- 
pany, or  rather  from  a  want  of  reflection,  and  it  has 
become  so  fastened  on  me  that  I  cannot  cure  myself  of 
it."  I  beg  your  pardon.  No  man  can  cure  himself  of 
a  bad  habit  who  does  not  want  to ;  but  when  you  go 
into  the  house  of  God,  when  you  go  among  Christian 
men,  when  you  are  where  clergymen  are  present,  you  do 
not  swear.  If  you  begin  to,  you  check  yourself  When 
you  go  into  a  waiting-room  that  is  full  of  ladies,  you  do 
not  swear.  You  can  restrain  yourself  from  swearing 
when  there  is  a  motive  for  it.  You  would  be  ashamed 
to  swear  in  the  presence  of  refined  and  cultivated 
women.  If  you  say  that  you  cannot  remedy  it,  I  say 
that  you  can  ;  for  you  do  sometimes.  You  show  that 
you  can  control  yourself  under  such  circumstances  as  I 
have  mentioned ;  and  if  you  can  under  such  circum- 
stances, then  you  can  under  other  circumstances.  What 
you  lack  is  the  will  to  do  it.  What  you  want  is  moral 
feeling.  If  you  liad  a  sense  of  the  enormity  of  the  evil, 
if  you  saw  ifc  as  it  is,  you  could  easily  break  it  off.  I 
do  not  say  that  men  of  violent  passions  are  not  some- 


ttI 


232  LECTURES   TO    YOUNG    xMEN. 

times  provoked  to  the  utterance  of  explosive  interjec- 
tions ;  but  I  say  that  the  temptation  to  profane  swear- 
ing can  be  restrained  as  easily  as  other  more  violent 
temptations. 

Here  let  me  say  that  the  whole  crowd  of  coward's 
oaths  come  under  the  same  general  designation.  They 
are  not  so  injurious  as  profane  oaths,  but  they  lead  to 
the  same  injuries.  When  a  man  says,  "Darn  it,"  he 
means  "  Damn  it,"  though  he  does  not  want  to  say  so. 
When  a  man  says,  "By  Jupiter,"  he  means  "By  the 
Highest,  by  the  Supreme."  These  little  coward's  oaths 
are  feeders  to  profane  oaths.  They  lead  a  man  along 
towards  the  worst  kinds  of  swearing.  They  are,  at  any 
rate,  disfigurements  to  good,  pure  conversation.  They 
are  warts  on  a  man's  language.  They  add  nothing  to 
what  he  says,  but  detract  much  from  it. 

Therefore  I  say  that  these  petty  oaths,  with  which 
young  persons'  mouths  are  filled,  are  vain  and  foolish  in 
this,  that  they  prepare  the  way  for  those  greater  and 
more  audacious  forms  of  swearing  of  which  I  have  been 
speaking. 

Men  say,  "  I  know  that  in  a  sense  swearing  is  bad  ; 
but  then,  some  of  the  best  of  men  that  I  ever  knew  in 
my  life  swear.  General  So-and-so,  —  he  was  the  very 
soul  of  honor,  and  yet  he  would  let  oaths  fly  like  bul- 
lets in  battle.  Admiral  So-and-so  used  to  swear  occa- 
sionally." It  was  none  the  less  one  of  the  greatest  of 
faults  because  these  men  had  excellences.  I  have  seen 
men  who  carried  great  wens  on  their  cheek  and  neck, 
and  yet  their  feet  were  sound,  and  they  had  good 
digestion,  and  their  arms  and  hands  were  all  right ;  but 
I  never  saw  anybody  that  undertook  to  get  a  wen  on 


PROFANE    SWEAKING.  233 

him  because  he  saw  wens  on  other  men  who  were  all 
right  in  every  other  respect. 

Here  is  a  lady  of  extreme  beauty  and  delicacy  of 
thought  and  sweetness  of  expression ;  the  very  blue  of 
heaven  melts  in  her  eye  ;  but  she  has  a  cancer  on  her 
breast.  Is  she  any  better  for  that  ?  People  do  not 
say,  "  That  splendid  creature  has  a  cancer ;  let  us  have 
one."  Men  do  not  usually  reason  in  that  way.  It  is 
only  in  respect  to  moral  deformities  that  we  ignore 
common-sense.  Wickedness  ignores  common-sense  all 
through. 

ISTot  to  protract  this  matter  longer,  let  me  make  an 
appeal  to  you.  Can  the  habit  of  insulting  sacred 
things,  —  can  the  habit  of  doing  violence  to  the  highest 
obligations  which  a  man  can  have,  so  that  they  are  tar- 
nished and  disfisjured  and  desrraded,  —  can  the  habit  of 
perverting  the  name  of  God  so  that  it  does  not  mean 
purity  nor  truth  nor  honor  nor  sanctity  nor  morality 
nor  love,  and  so' that  it  does  not,  like  sweet  music, 
draw  us  heavenward,  but  becomes,  rather,  a  name  that 
men  associate  with  vulgar  passions  and  coarse  thoughts 
and  base  uses,  —  can  such  a  habit  as  this  be  allowed  ? 

Young  man,  will  you  ever  swear  again  ?  Yes  ;  take 
one  oath  more,  and  that  not  a  profane  one  !  Xow,  in 
tlie  house  of  God,  with  uplifted  heart  and  hands  vow 
before  God  that  with  his  help  you  will  never  soil  your 
lips  again  with  profanity. 

Many  of  you  have  been  thinking  about  having  more 
virtues.  You  have  thought  that  you  would  reform ; 
but  you  have  not  known  where  to  begin.  Is  not  this  a 
good  place  for  a  beginning  ?  You  have  been  loose- 
lipped  and  foul-mouthed.      Yow,  first,  "  I  will  never 


234  LECTURES   TO    YOUNG   MEN. 

again  take  God's  name  in  vain."  And  then  join 
anotlier  vow  to  that.  Say,  "  I  will  never  again  be 
guilty  of  foul  expressions.  My  lips  shall  be  clean.  I 
will  never  say  anything  that  I  would  be  ashamed  to 
say  in  the  presence  of  my  mother  or  of  my  sister  or  of 
my  wife,  or  that  I  would  have  been  ashamed  to  say  in 
her  presence  before  she  was  my  wife."  Do  you  not 
think  that  the  vow  taken  and  registered,  "  I  will  swear 
no  more,  and  I  will  utter  no  more  vileness  under  any 
circumstances,"  would  be  a  good  vow  to  begin  reforma- 
tion with  ? 

Well,  if  you  take  these  steps  to  break  off  the  vice 
of  profanity,  why  should  you  not  make  them  simply 
the  first  steps  of  a  more  entire  reformation  ?  Why 
stop  on  the  threshold  ?  Is  it  not  time  that  you  should 
begin  the  higher  manhood  for  which  you  were  con- 
secrated in  the  cradle  ? 

Many  of  you  mean  to  be  Christians.  Why  is  it  not 
the  time  to  become  Christians  now  ?  Is  not  the  tran- 
sition most  noble,  from  swearing  by  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  to  lifting  up  holy  hands  and  swearing  fealty  to 
him  ?  You  who  have  abused  the  name  of  Jehovah 
and  its  associations,  is  it  not  time  for  you  to  come 
reverently  and  call  on  the  name  of  Jehovah  ?  Is  it 
not  time  for  many  of  you,  if  you  mean  to  live  Chris- 
tian lives,  to  begin  those  lives  ?  And  having  begun 
to  examine  and  correct  your  habits,  do  as  the  farmer 
does,  who  goes  over  his  farm  in  the  spring  to  look 
at  his  fences  and  repair  them,  putting  on  a  rail  where 
it  has  been  thrown  down,  straightening  up  a  post 
where  it  stands  awry,  replacing  a  board  that  has  been 
broken  down  by  the  snow,  and  not  stopping  till  the 


*  PROFA^'E   SWEARING.  235 

whole  work  is  thoroughly  done^.  "When  you  begin 
the  work  of  reformation,  do  not  stop  with  one  single 
thing.  Many  persons  begin  to  reform,  and  their  refor- 
mation is  good  as  far  as  it  goes ;  but  they  do  not  reform 
enough.  That  is  as  if  a  man  should  put  one  part  of 
his  fence  up  and  leave  the  other  down. 

Begin  with  this  more  obvious  fault,  because  men  see 
it,  and  therefore  are  more  affected  by  it.  Help  one 
another  by  your  example.  Swear  no  more.  Say  no 
more  foul  and  disalloAvable  things.  And  begin  to  pray. 
Commence  with  the  resolution  that  by  the  help  of  God 
you  will  allow  no  known  duty  to  pass  unfulfilled. 
Accept  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  as  your  charter  and  rule 
and  law  and  by-law  of  life ;  and  begin,  according  to 
your  best  light,  the  Christian  life.  God  will  help  you, 
—  the  God  of  your  father. 


)V^ 


.ky 


X. 

VULGARITY. 

What  shall  it  profit  a  man  if  he  gain  the  whole  world 
AND  LOSE  his  OWN  SOUL?"  —  Mark  viii.  36. 

^OW  much  worldly  wisdom  there  is  in  the 
j«|  heavenly  Book !  "  Wherewithal  shall  a 
young  man  cleanse  his  way  ? "  asks  the 
Psalmist;  and  answers  clearly  enough, 
"  By  taking  heed  thereto,  according  to  thy  word."  If 
a  man  will  only  follow  that  advice,  he  cannot  go  far 
astray.  What !  in  getting  on  in  the  world  ?  Yes  ;  for 
getting  on  in  the  world  depends  more  on  moral  causes 
than  men  are  apt  to  tliink. 

Every  young  man  who  starts  out  with  fine  oppor- 
tunities and  high  hopes,  or  with  the  energy  of  deter- 
mination fired  high  and  the  will  to  conquer  success, 
looks  forward  to  the  time  when  he  shall  have  amassed 
money,  made  himself  a  name,  acquired  influence,  and 
raised  himself  above  the  vulgar  herd  of  scrahblers  in 
the  dust  below.  Ah,  but  beware !  You  may  win  all 
the  success  you  dream  of,  and  yet  be  as  vulgar  as  the 
lowest. 

There  is  a  danger  here  tliat  young  men  need  to  be 
warned  against,  —  a  distinction  not  merely  of  words, 
but  of  things.    Vulgarity  is  a  fault  which  we  readily  see 


VULGARITY.  237 

Avhen  it  stands  out  in  all  grossness,  as  in  the  indecent, 
the  brutal,  the  purse-proud,  the  inocker  of  infirm  per- 
sons, the  cruel,  —  all  these  every  one  knows  and  admits 
to  he  vulgar.  Wliy  ?  What  is  the  essence  of  vulgarity  ? 
These  are  extreme  cases,  but  tliey  involve  principles 
which  ai)ply  also  to  others,  less  markedly  but  not  less 
really  vidgar. 

How  then  can  we  know  wdiat  w^ould  be  vulgar  under 
certain  circumstances  ?  For  want  of  a  safer  guide,  it 
is  perliaps  well  enough  to  judge  by  custom;  but  a  true 
man  is  one  who  is  independent  of  all  customs  and 
rules,  having  risen  so  high  th.at  he  can  interpret  what 
is  right  and  noble  and  manly  and  refined,  by  his  own 
intuition.  It  is  very  desirable  that  one  should  be  able 
to  carry  into  life  with  him  an  inward  standard  of 
wdiat  is  refined  and  noble,  or  wdiat  is  vulgar  and  ig- 
noble, w^hich  he  can  apply  to  himself.  And  let  this 
be  it :  — 

Whenever  you  act  from  your  animal  and  passional 
nature  —  your  lower  faculties  —  under  circumstances 
which  require  that  you  should  act  upon  a  liigher  plane, 
you  are  acting  wdth  vulgarity. 

Apply  this  to  the  occupations  and  conditions  of  men 
in  life.  A  man  is  not  vulgar  because  his  occupation  is 
low ;  and  yet  we  are  apt  to  speak  of  men  in  that  way. 
To  be  sure,  the  term  vulgar  does  not  necessarily  imply 
a  moral  reproach.  We  speak  of  "vulgar  fractions," 
meaning  merely  common  or  ordinary  fractions ;  we 
speak  of  many  things  as  being  vulgar  or  common  in 
a  general  way,  w^ithout  meaning  to  cast  moral  reproach 
upon  them.  But  the  vulgarity  which  implies  boorish- 
ness,  offensiveness  to  taste,  lowness  of  mind,  baseness. 


238  LECTURES   TO   YOUXG   MEN. 

or  meanness,  is  a  term  too  loosely  applied  by  men  to 
their  fellows.  For  instance,  there  is  an  imjjression  in 
society  that  many  persons  are  to  be  called  vulgar  simply 
because  they  do  not  dress  well,  because  they  are  obliged 
to  labor  for  a  living,  because  their  occupation  is  itself 
very  humble,  menial  even.  It  is  therefore  of  impor- 
tance that  we  should  discriminate  as  to  words  in  such 
matters  as  these. 

A  man's  occupation  is  not  vulgar  simply  because  it 
is  coarse,  because  it  is  low,  or  because  it  is  unremu- 
nerative.  A  man's  business  is  not  vulgar  if  it  be  right 
in  itself,  though  it  serve  the  lowest  and  the  poorest 
wants  of  society.  If  an  occupation  is  pursued  with 
integrity;  if  the  man  make  it  the  medium  through 
wdiich  he  shows  himself  truthful,  faithful,  honest,  up- 
right ;  if  he  carry  into  it  the  spirit  of  true  manhood,  — 
it  is  not  vulgar.  There  is  no  occupation  that  is  low  or 
menial  merely  from  the  fact  that  it  serves  men's  wants. 
It  is  quite  possible  for  one  to  stand  in  relations  of 
service,  or  even  servitude,  to  his  fellow-men,  and  yet 
not  be  menial.  All  subordinate  positions  are  to  be 
accepted  in  the  providence  of  God,  not  as  humbling 
us,  even  when  we  are  obliged  to  go  down  from  higher 
positions  to  them.  And  whatever  occupation  being 
useful  to  men  is  accepted  in  this  spirit  and  is  filled 
with  fidelity  and  earnestness  and  true  manliness,  is  a 
respectable  one.  It  cannot  be  called  vulgar,  in  the 
offensive  sense  of  that  term. 

It  may  be  that  a  man's  raiment  is  coarse.  It  ought 
to  be  so,  to  be  adapted  to  coarse  occupations.  It  may 
be  that  long  continuance  in  humble  pursuits  renders  a 
man's  habits  less  refined  and  less  brilliant.     His  con- 


VULGARITY.  239 

versation,  as  we  should  naturally  sux)pose  it  would, 
may  liover  around  the  subjects  with  which  he  is  most 
conversant,  and  follow  the  line  of  his  own  pursuits. 
But  offensive  vulgarity  does  not  attach  to  external  con- 
ditions. It  belongs  to  internal  moral  states.  Thou- 
sands of  times  we  have  seen,  and  we  shall  see  in  in- 
creasing numbers  as  intelligence  spreads  among  the 
common  people,  that  the  noblest  dispositions  and  the 
noblest  powers  may  lie  hid  in  common  occupations.  It 
is  an  act  of  vulgarity  for  a  man  to  regard  common  work 
and  plain  workmen  as  vulgar.  It  is  vulgar,  because 
mean,  not  to  be  able  to  estimate  manliness  wherever  we 
find  it,  and  however  rude  its  exterior  may  be.  Wher- 
ever you  find  patience,  fidelity,  honor,  kindness,  truth, 
there  you  find  respectability,  though  it  be  in  the  quarry, 
though  it  be  in  the  colliery,  though  it  may  be  in  the 
lowest  places  of  human  industry.  But  wherever  you 
find  guises  and  pretenses  and  sweet  insincerities  and 
shuffling  lies  and  all  manner  of  unmanly  glozings,  there 
you  find  vulgarity,  no  matter  how  gorgeous  the  apparel 
and  how  gilded  the  apartment.  Yet  even  in  the  lowest 
circumstances,  if  a  man  does  not  rise  to  the  privilege  of 
his  condition, — if  he  shows  himself  careless  of  the  fact 
that  he  is  a  child  of  immortality,  —  if  he  carries  himself 
without  a  consciousness  that  he  is  a  man,  simply  be- 
cause he  is  poor,  and  his  occupation  is  poor  and  unre- 
munerative,  —  that  is  vulgar  in  him. 

All  men  are  of  God,  and  all  men  to  God  belong  ;  and 
all  men  have  a  right  to  the  port  and  dignity  of  sons  of 
God.  Because  one  is  in  menial  conditions  of  life,  it  does 
not  become  him  to  forget  this,  or  to  carry  himself  less 
royally  than  a  king's  son  should. 


240  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG    MEN. 

The  royal  families  of  Europe  are  accustomed  to  send 
their  children  out  to  prepare  them  for  their  destiny. 
One  goes  into  the  army,  and  another  into  the  navy.  We 
have  lately  been  entertaining  the  Duke  Alexis.  He  is 
an  officer  of  the  imperial  Russian  navy  ;  but  he  is  not 
less  every  inch  an  emperor's  son  in  his  own  thought 
because  he  wears  the  garb  of  a  seaman,  or  because  he 
serves  in  the  navy  upon  tlie  sea. 

God's  sons  are  scattered  up  and  down  throughout 
the  earth  ;  and  because  he  has  put  some  liigher  and  some 
lower,  and  some  lower  still,  it  is  not  for  tliem  to  forget 
that,  whatever  their  places  may  be,  however  low  may 
be  their  station,  they  are  the  sons  of  God.  This  sense 
of  the  nobility  of  character ;  this  consciousness  of  what 
man  is,  of  Iiimself,  by  virtue  of  what  he  has  in  connec- 
tion with  God  ;  this  feeling  that 

"  A  man  's  a  man  for  a'  that,"  — 

ought  to  be  strong  in  every  heart.  When  a  man  is  in 
low  circumstances  and  coarse  apparel,  if  he  himself 
shrinks  back  and  is  ashamed  of  it,  and  apologizes,  and 
seems  to  be  annoyed,  it  unmans  him  and  ruins  him. 
He  lacks  self-respect,  and  therefore  is  vulgar.  He  is 
so,  not  because  he  is  poor  outwardly,  but  because  he 
is  poor  inwardly. 

On  the  other  hand,  all  compliance  with  wicked  cus- 
toms in  society,  all  prosperity  founded  upon  the  barter 
of  moral  princij^le,  all  respectability  which  we  gain 
by  an  exchange  of  our  moral  sense  for  our  worldly  good, 
—  all  this  is  vulgar.  For  you  cannot  so  dress  up  a  viola- 
tion of  moral  principle  as  to  make  it  other  than  vulgar. 
You  cannot  express  a  mean  sentiment  in  such  poetic 


VULGARITY.  241 

and  glowing  language  that  it  will  not  still  be  mean. 
You  cannot,  with  flowing  measures,  with  the  music  of 
numbers,  or  with  the  gorgeousness  of  rhetoric,  express 
salacious  thoughts  and  base  desires  and  not  have  them 
infernal,  any  more  than  you  can  put  manly  and  glowing 
and  noble  sentiments  in  language  so  simple  and  plain 
that  they  will  not  be  respectable,  —  yea,  royal. 

Wherefore,  if  it  please  God  to  call  you  to  your  life's 
duties  in  spheres  that  are  externally  humble,  make  it 
up  inside.  And,  on  the  other  hand,  beware  of  feeling 
that  your  success  in  life  depends  upon  your  securing 
external  position  where  you  are  obliged  to  do  it  by 
mere  connivance,  by  the  sacrifice  of  your  own  self- 
respect,  by  pretending  to  believe  what  you  do  not  be- 
lieve, by  pretending  to  be  wliat  you  are  not,  by  any 
of  those  sinister  and  indirect  ways  by  "^vhich  you  put 
your  higher  nature  underneath  the  feet  of  your  lower 
nature.  Your  house  may  be  large,  your  saloons  may  be 
gilded,  but  that  does  not  make  essential  meanness  no- 
ble. A  man  may  stand  at  the  top  of  society,  and  yet 
be  at  the  bottom  of  it.  As  many  and  many  a  man  wears 
grand  apparel  who  is  a  culprit ;  as  many  and  many  a 
man  walks  among  the  best,  and  carries  the  worst  dis- 
position ;  so  a  man  may  seem  to  be  in  society  respecta- 
ble and  reputable  and  excellent,  and  yet  be  vulgar,  as 
God  sees  him.  He  who  lives  by  mean  dispositions  and 
by  mean  thoughts  and  by  base  compliances  and  by  es- 
sentially animal  and  low  ways,  cannot  be  so  covered  up 
and  varnished  with  external  prosperity  that  he  is  not 
essentially  ^^llgar. 

This  is  true,  also,  in  respect  to  all  pleasures.  I  have 
said  in  your  hearing  that  the  spirit  of  Christianity  is  joy. 
11  p 


242  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG   MEN. 

It  looks  toward  joy.  The  production  of  joy  requires 
suffering ;  so  that  on  its  way  toward  its  ideal  it  carries 
suffering  with  it :  but  the  genius  of  Christianity  is  so 
to  ripen  and  raise  men  that  they  shall  be  susceptible 
of  perpetual  enjoyment;  so  to  harmonize  them  as  to 
accord  them  with  themselves.  Therefore,  by  ^pleas- 
ure  we  do  not  imply  illicitncss.  All  pleasures  which  do 
not  imply  degradation,  grossness,  animalism,  are  per- 
missible by  religion.  I  bid  you  beware,  however,  of  all 
pleasures  that  have  become  refined  simply  because  their 
insignia  are  refined.  Beware  of  supposing  that  pleasures 
are  any  less  vulgar  in  silk  and  satin  than  tliey  would 
be  in  sackcloth.  There  are  many  dens  of  infamy  into 
which  men  go  where  they  nuzzle  in  the  mud.  Other 
men,  looking  in  and  seeing  them  wallowing  in  animal- 
ism, are  shocked  at  the  vulgarity  of  such  pleasure.  It 
is  shocking,  it  is  vulgar ;  and  yet,  straightway  these 
more  refined  lookers-on  will  go  to  a  bower  of  pleasure 
where  the  imagination  and  fancy  and  sense  of  beauty 
have  been  called  in,  and  where  everything  is  exquisite 
and  gilded,  to  pursue  precisely  the  same  courses  and  to 
sacrifice  to  the  same  vulgar  lust,  to  the  same  base  pas- 
sions. It  is  not  considered  vulgar,  because  of  the  em- 
bellishments of  the  externality ;  but  the  vulgarity  lies 
in  the  thing  itself,  and  not  in  its  externals. 

Do  you  not  suppose  that  he  who  lies  most  wittily,  but 
lies,  is  vulgar,  —  just  as  vulgar  as  he  that  lies  blunder- 
ingly and  coarsely  ?  The  vulgarity  is  in  the  meanness 
and  wickedness  of  the  lie  itself,  not  in  the  style  of  its 
putting  forth. 

From  this,  also,  we  see  tliat  vulgarity  of  language  is 
not  necessarily  rudeness  nor  coarseness  of  expression, 


^^;LGARITY.  243 

because  there  are  a  great  many  honest  souls  who  ex- 
press very  noble  sentiments  rudely  and  coarsely ;  but 
the  feelmg  or  the  sentiment  redeems  the  language.  A 
great  heart,  rising  with  the  tide  of  a  great  experience, 
may  be  rough  or  unrefined,  but  it  cannot  be  vulgar. 

On  the  other  hand,  no  language  can  redeem  a  mean 
feeling  or  a  mean  experience.  It  is  what  language  is 
used  for,  it  is  the  contents  of  the  language,  that  deter- 
mines whether  it  is  vulgar  or  not.  The  honest,  the 
pure,  the  true,  though  they  be  in  a  rough  garb,  speak 
right,  substantially,  whatever  they  speak,  if  they  mean 
TvAit.  Eefined  languaoe  sometimes  carries  a  vuk-ar 
meaning  which  it  does  not  quite  like  to  express  clearly ; 
it  throws  the  shadow  of  an  evil  thought,  and  shrinks  back 
from  making  plain  the  substance  of  that  thought ;  the 
language  of  much  of  our  literature  is  full  of  fiery  and 
pointed  suggestions,  rather  than  of  expressed  meanings  ; 
—  all  this  dexterous  devil-language  is  vulgar.  If  Satan 
be  clothed  like  an  angel  of  light,  and  every  feather  in 
his  wing  be  of  silver  or  of  gold,  he  is  the  Devil  inside, 
notwithstanding.  And  no  matter  what  poetry  is,  no 
matter  what  literature  is,  no  matter  how  sweet  the 
beautiful  and  rounded  sentences  are,  —  mat  do  they 
carry? — that  is  the  question.  Wliat  is  in  them? 
"VMiat  do  they  mean  ?  Wlience  do  they  come  ?  '\\liere 
do  they  touch  ?  That  is  what  determines  their  charac- 
ter. Xoble  thoughts  in  noble  language,  of  course,  are 
best.  Noble  thoughts  on  noble  errands,  with  noble 
conveyances,  —  these  are  noble  indeed ;  but  beware  of 
supposing  that  a  thing  is  not  ignominious  and  vulgar 
simply  because  it  is  polished,  simply  because  in  ex- 
pression it  is  refined.     Learn  to  discriminate  between 


244  LECTURES  TO  YOUNG  MEN. 

the  vehicle  and  the  thing  conveyed.    Even  in  a  friendly- 
ship  the  cargo  may  be  "  contraband  of  war." 

In  society  there  be  many  persons  who  are  regarded 
as  stupid  and  vulgar  simply  because  they  are  non-com- 
plying. There  may  be  a  rigidity  that  is  not  wise.  It 
is  not  necessary  that  honesty  should  be  blunt,  or  that 
truth  should  be  unpleasantly  violent  in  expression. 
And  yet,  often  men  think  that  the  quiet  and  simple 
adhesion  of  a  man  to  manliness  and  sincerity  in  society 
marks,  comparatively  speaking,  a  low  condition ;  where- 
as those  who  have  a  pliant  tongue  and  who  are  fertile 
of  compliments,  fuU  of  gilded  insincerities,  rich  in 
sweet  and  pleasant  speeches  meaning  nothing,  making 
their  way  by  smiles  and  favor  for  their  own  purposes, 
are  often  considered  the  masters  of  society.  Their  dex- 
terity, the  flash  of  their  imagination,  their  ten  thousand 
deft  and  apt  ways,  make  them  attractive ;  but,  after  all, 
their  hearts  may  be  as  bitter  as  gall.  They  may  be  as 
full  of  selfishness  and  rancorous  passions  as  it  is  possi- 
ble for  a  man  to  be.  And  not  only  no  external  beauty, 
but  no  dexterity  can  save  them  from  the  charge  of  vul- 
garity. 

To  act  from  your  lower  nature  instead  of  your  higher 
is  vulgar.  To  act  as  an  animal  while  you  are  a  man  is 
vulgar.  Always  and  everywhere  you  are  bound  to  act 
with  all  the  feelings  and  with  all  the  carriage  of  a  son 
of  God. 

There  is  an  opportunity  in  social  life  for  studying 
this  matter  of  vulgarity.  All  social  enjoyments  which 
sacrifice  themselves  to  the  animal  are  vulgar ;  not  on 
account  of  their  being  joyful,  not  because  tliey  are  bois- 
terous, not  because  there  is  a  little  more  or  a  little  less 


VULGARITY.  245 

of  animal  spirits,  not  because  there  is  a  little  more  or  a 
little  less  noise.  These  things  may  be  of  some  impor- 
tance, but  not  very  much.  It  is  where  men  go  steadily 
down,  as  they  drink,  toward  debauch,  or  as  they  sport 
in  the  direction  of  the  lower  passions  and  appetites, 
that  they  are  accursed.  They  are  vulgar.  They  are 
base. 

There  is  a  great  deal  of  vulgarity  in  society  by  reason 
of  arrogance  and  pride,  shown  in  the  way  that  we  treat 
those  who  are  below  us  in  mental  gifts.  A  true  man, 
whom  God  has  enlightened  and  blessed  with  strength 
of  mind  any  knowledge,  becomes  a  benefactor  to  his 
kind.  He  is  bound  to  be  the  father  of  tliose  w'lio  are 
less  than  he.  He  is  to  be  their  guide.  He  is  to  be 
their  patron.  He  is  to  look  upon  those  whom  he 
regards  his  inferiors  as  in  some  sense  his  wards.  He 
is  to  bestow  kindness  on  them.  He  is  the  almoner  of 
God's  bounty  to  them.  We  are  lent  gifts  that  we  may 
by  means  of  them  bless  those  who  are  around  about  us. 
And  for  a  man  to  take  these  bestowals  of  God  upon 
him,  and  with  tliem  to  treat  those  who  are  below  him 
with  contempt  and  neglect,  is  vulgarity. 

There  are  a  great  many  vulgar  men  wlio  do  not  know 
that  they  are  vulgar.  There  are  a  great  many  men  who 
hold  their  heads  hic^h,  and  who  are  without  a^  con- 
sciousness  that  they  ever  did  any  injustice  to  their 
fellows,  but  who  are  in  the  highest  degipe  unjust. 
Why,  their  very  shadow  is  an  injustice  !  'Tlie  curl  of 
their  lip  is  like  the  piercing  of  a  sworcM^  They  organize 
their  unfriendliness.  They  are  unfraternal  towards  those 
who  are  God's  children  as  well  as  they  are.  A  man 
who  carries  himself  with  this  loftiness,  and  has  no 


246  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG  MEN. 

sympathy  for  others,  and  does  not  care  for  those  who 
are  below  him,  and  whose  kindness  is  confined  to  those 
who  belong  to  his  own  household,  is  a  vulgar  man. 
There  is  much  vulgarity  that  is  meanness  in  the  treat- 
ment of  those  who  are  inferior  in  the  relations  of  life. 

One  man  serves  another,  but  he  does  not  serve  him 
altogether.  No  man  should  serve  another  so  as  to  give  up 
his  own  identity  and  personality  and  self-respect.  The 
man  who  serves  me  is  in  many  respects  my  benefactor. 
A  man  who  can  make  me  happier  and  better  has  an 
advantage  over  me.  In  love  there  is  no  pay  but  love. 
In  a  service  of  love  there  is  no  equivalent  but  a 
service  of  love.  He  who  serves  me  is  at  once  brought 
near  to  my  level  by  the  fact  that  God  has  put  it  into 
his  power  to  be  my  helper.  And  if  there  is  any  man 
who,  because  he  pays  persons  wages,  because  they  serve 
his  daily  wants,  because  they  work  in  his  kitchen,  in 
his  shop,  or  on  his  farm,  looks  down  upon  them,  and 
treats  them  as  if  they  were  underneath  him,  and  is 
neglectful  of  them  and  unsympathetic  toward  them,  he 
is  essentially  vulgar.  It  makes  no  difference  what  his 
other  qualities  are,  he  is  vulgar  in  that  direction.  I  am 
afraid  we  are  all  vulgar  once  in  a  while  ! 

Neglect  of  the  mutual  deference  which  is  due  in 
society,  and  esj)ecially  in  the  household,  is  the  occasion 
of  a  great  deal  of  vulgarity.  Our  children  are  emanci- 
pated early  in  American  society.  This  neglect  belongs 
to  our  time.  It  belono\s  to  our  customs.  It  belon^-s  to 
the  stimulating  developments  wliicli  bring  people  for- 
ward so  soon  in  this  land.  It  belongs  also,  I  think, 
to  a  certain  vagrancy  which  we  derive  from  our  no- 
tions of  civil  liberty.     I  think  there  is  less  respect  paid 


VULGAEITY.  247 

to  old  asre  arnonc^  its  than  tliere  used  to  be,  and  less 
than  there  is  still  in  old  countries.  There  is  less  def- 
erence paid  by  children  to  parents.  I  do  not  think 
children  love  their  parents  less,  but  certainly  they  do 
not  honor  them  so  much.  If  my  observation  serves 
me,  there  is  not  much  honor  in  our  conventional  cus- 
toms. There  is  a  lack  of  pohteness  and  kindness  be- 
tween brothers  and  sisters  in  the  household.  There  is 
a  want  of  that  honoring  of  men,  and  especially  of  those 
that  are  of  the  household  of  faith.  There  is  a  want  of 
that  love  which  the  Scriptures  enjoin.  And  the  lack  of 
these  things  is  not  simply  being  unmannered ;  it  is  being 
vulgar,  where  no  man  can  afford  to  be  vulgar. 

A'VTien  I  see  a  young  whipster  treat  with  contempt 
or  neglect  an  old  man  who  is  infirm  and  clad  in  a  poor 
Q'arb,  not  offerino-  to  render  him  anv  service,  and  not 
caring  what  becomes  of  him,  I  do  not  care  who  his 
father  is,  that  boy  is  vulgar.  When  I  see  a  young  man 
in  the  street  cars,  and  there  comes  in  a  poorly  clad 
woman  who  has  suffered,  and  ^^-lio  seems  to  have  been 
privileged  to  suffer,  looking  w^earily  about  for  a  seat, 
and  I  see  him,  young,  vigorous,  happy,  respectable, 
bearing  an  honored  name,  sit  still  and  let  her  stand,  I 
say  that  he  is  vulgar. 

There  are  a  thousand  of  these  little  observances  of 
life  which  are  supposed  to  be  of  not  much  importance, 
and  which  perhaps  do  weigh  but  little  as  compared 
with  great  heroic  deeds ;  but  let  me  tell  you  that  a  life 
of  heroism  is  made  up  of  a  multitude  of  minor  things, 
and  that  no  man  is  likely  to  be  a  hero  who  has  not 
practiced  himself  in  ten  thousand  little  self-denials  and 
duties.     Heroisms    are    wrought    out   in   men.     They 


248  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG  MEN. 

never  come  extemporized  for  the  occasion.  Yon  never 
see  them  except  ^vhere  they  have  been  shaped  and 
prepared.  And  all  these  little  observances  and  cus- 
toms are  as  so  many  drops  of  blood  that  circulate 
in  the  household  and  move  through  the  veins  of 
society. 

I  am  sorry  to  see  how  much  fraternal  kindness  has 
died  out  from  the  intercourse  of  men  in  the  world.  I 
am  sorry  to  see  how  we  meet  men  without  a  recog- 
nition, where  "The  Lord  be  with  you,"  was  the 
Oriental  salutation.  I  am  sorry  to  see  how  we  go 
into  a  man's  store  as  into  a  barn,  and  think  no  more 
of  the  man  than  of  a  brute,  saying,  "  Have  you  this  ? " 
or  "  Have  you  that  ? "  and  taking  it  and  going  our 
way. 

I  was  impressed  with  the  courtesy  which  I  saw 
abroad  on  the  part  of  those  who  stood  to  serve  their 
customers,  and  as  they  came  in  bowed  and  interchanged 
some  courtesy  with  them.  How  much  better  it  would 
be  if  business  among  us  was  conducted  more  on  the 
plan  of  courtesy  and  the  interchange  of  kindly  feelings 
than  it  now  often  is  !  Scarcely  any  one  who  has  much 
dealing  with  men,  when  his  attention  is  directed  to 
this  matter,  can  help  charging  himself  with  vulgarity. 
It  is  not  so  much  that  your  manners  are  coarse,  as 
that  you  lack  kindness,  as  that  you  lack  the  sentiment 
of  honoring  men,  as  that  you  lack  deference  and  rev- 
erence. 

We  often  hear  of  the  vulgarity  of  riches.  There  is 
much  vulgarity  connected  with  riches,  although  there 
is  not  a  little  also  connected  with  poverty.  Where 
riches   are  the  sign  of  industry,  frugality,  skill,  long 


AnjLGARITY.  249 

patience ;  where  they  carry  with  them  the  testimony  of 
honesty  and  honor,  —  they  are  a  thing  which  no  man 
should  be  ashamed  of.  I  am  tired  of  hearing  persons 
cast  up  reproaches  to  men  simply  because  they  are 
rich,  as  if  they  were  of  course  to  be  bombarded.  In 
this  country  there  is  comparatively  little  of  riches 
amassed.  Comparatively  speaking,  taking  the  country 
through,  it  may  be  said  that  no  man  amasses  riches 
which  stay  with  him  who  does  not  do  it  by  the  exer- 
cise of  sterling  qualities.  It  is  not  an  easy  thing  for 
a  man  nowadays  to  become  rich.  It  requires  a  great 
deal  of  forethought,  power  of  control,  application,  good 
sense,  and  good  judgment,  long  continued.  It  requires 
honesty  and  honor,  and  the  confidence  of  men.  These 
things  amass  wealth.  I  do  not  believe  that  riches  are 
"better  gained  or  better  kept  in  any  other  way  than 
through  the  instrumentality  of  the  honest  good  qualities 
of  manhood. 

Therefore  I  am  one  of  those  who  love  to  see  men 
grow  rich,  when  I  see  that  their  riches  are  the  expo- 
nents of  good  qualities.  But  when  a  man's  wealth 
inspires  conceit  and  arrogance  and  selfishness ;  when  a 
man,  for  no  reason  except  that  he  is  rich,  is  offensively 
arrogant,  —  then  he  is  vulgar.  "When  riches,  instead  of 
making  men  longer  armed  and  more  open-handed,  shut 
up  their  hand  and  shorten  their  arm,  and  make  them 
very  selfish  and  narrow,  then  their  riches  make  them 
vulgar. 

Where  riches  inspire  vanity,  and  a  man  is,  as  it  is 

said,  purse-proud,  and  through  ostentation  he  brightens 

in  men's  approbation,  as  he  supposes,  but  in  reality 

darkens  in  their  contempt,  he  is  vulgar.     You  may  live 

11* 


250  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG  MEN. 

in  a  very  humble  liouse,  and  still  be  possessed  of  great 
riches,  and  still  be  honored  of  all  men. 

Mr.  Dowse,  of  Cambridge,  never  was  ashamed  to  be 
a  tanner  and  currier.  I  believe  he  never  moved  out  of 
the  humble  cottage  where  he  began  his  career.  He 
never  was  ashamed  of  his  skins.  He  amassed  his  prop- 
erty quietly,  filled  his  house  with  books,  and  collected 
rare  works  of  art,  exercising  superior  taste  in  selection. 
And  he  lived  in  that  town  a  gentleman  and  a  true 
man.  It  is  said  that  a  portion  of  the  students  of  the 
neighboring  University  insulted  him  very  grossly  on 
account  of  his  trade,  and  that  in  consequence  he  with- 
held from  the  institution  a  munificent  gift  which  it  was 
his  purpose  to  bestow  upon  it.  One  thing  is  certain, 
that  the  whole  library,  which  he  intended  to  leave  to 
the  University,  was  presented  to  the  Boston  Historical 
Society,  with  some  property  besides.  Tlie  men  who 
insulted  him  were  vulgar,  although  they  were  students 
of  the  University,  and  no  matter  if  they  were  sons  of 
the  first  families  in  the  land. 

He  who  despises  riches  gained  by  honorable  courses 
is  vulgar ;  but  he  who,  having  riches,  however  they  may 
have  been  gained,  is  impertinent  and  domineering  and 
conceited  and  unmanly,  is  vulgar. 

On  the  other  hand,  riches  cannot  cover  up  vulgarity. 
Men  who  are  benefactors ;  men  who  build  up  society ; 
men  who  carry  streams  of  bounty  into  the  towns  or 
villages  where  they  dwell,  and  make  them  blossom  as 
gardens  of  the  Lord  ;  men  who  associate  their  names 
with  foundations  that  go  on  carrying  with  them  bless- 
ings to  the  lowest  generations  ;  men  who  think  not  so 
much  of  what  money  shall  make  them  to  be  as  of  what 


VULGAPJTY.  251 

they  shall  be  able  to  create  by  money  for  their  country 
and  for  their  kind,  —  these  are  noble  men. 

A  multitude  of  faults  and  failiugs  do  not  detract 
from  the  grandeur  of  such  natures.  He  who  lives  in 
the  lower  part  of  his  disposition  lives  habitually  in 
vulgarities.  He  who  lives  in  pride  and  selfishness 
and  envy  and  jealousy ;  lie  who  makes  these  the  in- 
strument of  his  daily  life ;  he  who  purveys  by  them, 
and  attacks  or  defends  himself  by  them ;  he  who  makes 
the  most  use  of  the  lower  passions  and  propensities 
of  his  disposition,  —  is  vulgar.  But  he  who  dwells  in 
noble  generosities  —  in  faith  and  hope  and  love  and 
royal  thoughts  —  is  noble. 

There  is  a  great  deal  of  religious  vulgarity.  If  I  were 
to  put  out  upon  my  house  the  sign,  "  The  only  refined 
Family  on  this  Street,"  I  should  not  exactly  have  the 
good-will  of  every  other  family.  If  I  should  declare 
that  I  was  the  most  gentlemanly  man  in  our  ward,  be- 
cause I  had  received  the  gift  of  refinement  in  a  straight 
Ime  clear  back  to  the  days  of  the  Apostles,  it  would  not 
help  me  one  single  whit,  not  even  if  I  should  historically 
prove  it.  If  I  were  to  strut  before  my  fellow-men  in 
any  way  by  self-assertion  and  by  assuming  superiority 
over  them,  I  should  be  set  down  at  once  as  vulvar ;  and 
I  should  be  vulgar. 

You  cannot  do  that  in  business.  You  cannot  do  it 
in  social  life.  Eeligion  is  the  only  place  where  you 
can  do  it,  and  be  respectable.  Sects  with  feathers  that 
never  grew  in  them,  with  peacocks'  tails  and  all  sorts 
of  tinsel-work  on  them,  are  forever  setting  forth  their 
own  merits  and  declaring  their  own  excellences,  and  de- 
nouncin;:^  those  who  are  different  from  them.     But  that 


2o2  LECTURES  TO   YOUNG  MEN. 

which  would  turn  a  gentleman  out  of  society  cannot 
make  a  priest  or  a  minister  admirable.  A  man  who 
enormously  overpraises  liimself  and  depreciates  others 
is  vulgar ;  and  any  religion  which  lacks  justice  and 
humility  and  moderation  is  vulgar.  There  is  a  great 
deal  of  vulgarity,  not  m  religion  itself,  but  in  the  prac- 
tice of  it  among  men.  Eeligion  "  suffereth  long  and  is 
kind  "  ;  it  "  envieth  not "  ;  it  "  vaunteth  not  itself "  ;  it 
"  is  not  puffed  up  "  ;  it  "  doth  not  behave  itself  unseem- 
ly "  ;  it  "  seeketh  not  its  own  "  ;  it  "  is  not  easily  pro- 
voked"; it  "thinketh  no  evil";  it  "rejoiceth  not  in 
iniquity,  but  rejoiceth  in  the  truth";  it"beareth  all 
things,  believeth  all  things,  hopeth  all  things,  endureth 
all  things."  But  the  vulgar  pretentiousness  of  sects, 
their  arrogance  and  pugnacity,  their  irritations,  their 
disavowings  and  depreciations  and  cordial  hatings  one 
of  another,  —  these  are  odious  before  God  as  they  are 
delightful  before  the  Devil. 

Before  one  enters,  therefore,  upon  any  such  ways  as 
these,  it  might  be  well  for  him  to  ask  whether  such 
vulgarity  is  inspired  of  the  Holy  Ghost;  whether  it 
has  example  or  precedent  or  approval  either  in  the 
spirit  or  letter  of  the  New  Testament. 

Speaking  of  religion  and  religious  vulgarity,  let  me 
ask  whether  religion  is  not  a  thing  personal,  of  neces- 
sity ;  whether  it  does  not  mean  the  practice  of  the 
noblest  manhood,  —  such  a  manhood  as  Christ  was  the 
pattern  of;  whether  it  is  not  the  supreme  idea  of  the 
New  Testament  that  a  man  should  be  fashioned,  not  by 
the  elements  of  his  lower  manhood,  but  by  those 
glorious  elements  which  went  to  make  the  Son  of  God 
the  Saviour  of  the  world ;  whether,  when  we  ask  peo- 


VULGARITY.  253 

pie  to  become  Christians,  or  preach  the  duty  of  a  relig- 
ious life,  we  are  asking  them  to  be  anything  other  than 
that  which  is  noble.  And  if  true  manhood  is  religion  ; 
if  a  more  glorious  moral  sense,  if  an  illuminated  imagi- 
nation, if  a  heart  full  of  gentleness  and  faith,  if  that 
which  si)rings  from  the  better  part  of  a  man's  nature 
and  draws  him  in  love  toward  God  and  angels  and  his 
fellow-men,  if  a  more  royal  pattern  of  life  than  any- 
thing which  prevails  in  the  world,  is  religion, — then  let 
me  ask  you.  Is  not  the  absence  of  religion  vulgarity  ? 
Is  it  not  baseness  ?  Can  a  man  fall  below  his  own 
ideal,  can  a  man  contentedly  live  below  what  he  recog- 
nizes as  the  truest  manhood,  can  a  man  habitually  per- 
mit and  tolerate  and  encourage  that  which  is  beneath 
what  he  knows  to  be  his  true  development,  and  not 
charge  himself  with  moral  vulgarity  ? 

My  friends,  we  have  come  to  the  end  of  another  year ; 
and  may  it  not  be  an  exercise  of  profit,  and  one  full  of 
wisdom,  for  you  to  review,  in  lines  of  meditation,  the 
way  in  which  you  have  lived  during  the  past  twelve 
months  ?  AYhat  company  have  you  kept  ?  How  have 
you  lived  in  your  household,  in  your  business,  in  your 
pleasures,  in  your  relations  to  the  State,  and  in  religion  ? 
Think  back.  Probe  your  conduct.  Ask  yourself,  "  Have 
I  lived  vulgarly  ? "  Ask  yourself,  "  Have  I,  on  the 
whole,  during  tlie  year  that  is  past,  used  the  selfish,  the 
vain,  the  proud,  the  worldly  part  of  my  nature  most, 
or  the  higher  part  ? "  Ask  yourself,  "  Have  I  been  in 
association  and  sympathy  with  that  which  is  divine,  or 
with  that  which  is  human  and  animal  ?  Have  I  leaned 
toward  the  higher  or  the  lower  side  of  manhood  ? " 

Look  forward  into  the  year  that  is  to  come.     Have 


254  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG   MEx^. 

you  no  aspiration  ?  Do  you  pierce  the  year  with  no 
new  hopes  ?  Have  you  no  path  that  you  lay  for  the 
days  that  are  to  come  ?  Do  you  propose  to  move  on 
with  the  same  indifference  that  you  have  manifested 
hitherto  ?  Would  it  not  be  worth  your  while,  as  the 
year  dies  out,  to  set  over  against  you  an  ideal  of  another 
year,  to  be  builded,  as  the  city  of  God  is  builded,  of 
precious  stones  ? 

"  ^Yha.t  sliall  it  x^rofit  a  man  if  he  shall  gain  the  whole  world  and 
lose  his  own  soul  ? " 

Can  it  be  possible  that  you  should  go  on  for  the  year 
to  come  perfectly  indifferent  of  the  course  and  career  of 
sin  to  which  you  are  giving  yourself  ?  Is  it  possible 
that  during  the  year  to  come  you  shall  take  of  the 
bounties  of  God,  —  the  light  of  the  sun,  the  glory  of 
the  summer,  the  fruit  of  the  field,  the  joy  of  the  house- 
hold, —  merely  to  minister  to  a  body  which  refuses  any 
allegiance  to  him  and  refuses  to  serve  him  ?  Can  you, 
for  the  year  to  come,  know  of  that  love  of  Christ  which 
glows,  like  the  sun,  for  every  nation  on  the  globe, —  can 
you  know  of  that  declaration  of  Divine  beneficence  and 
mercy  which  hangs  over  your  head,  and  have  no 
thought  and  no  heart-beat  of  gratitude  ?  Can  it  be 
possible  that  you  shall  live  for  the  year  to  come  within 
the  sound  of  the  joys  that  belong  to  the  heavenly 
sphere,  knowing  that  they  are  not  far  from  you,  and 
despise  or  neglect  them  all  ?  Is  it  becoming  ?  Is  it 
manly  ?  Is  it  honorable  ?  Is  it  right  ?  Or,  taking  it 
even  on  a  lower  ground,  is  it  sensible  ?  Or,  taking  it 
still  lower,  is  it  your  interest  ?  I  appeal  to  you,  not 
through  your  pride,  nor  through  any  form  of  ignoble 


\^"LGAEITY.  2 


00 


excitement.  I  appeal  to  your  manliness,  to  your  honor, 
to  your  conscience.  I  appeal  to  all  that  which  is  best 
and  truest  and  noblest  in  you.  Is  it  right  for  you  to 
live  upon  the  love  of  God,  as  you  are  living,  and  give 
him  not  one  thouoht  of  love  in  return  ?     Is  it  ridit  for 

o  o 

you  to  be  the  bay  into  which  rivers  do  empty,  and  give 
nothing  back,  —  not  even  so  much  as  a  thin  vapor  ? 
Is  it  right  for  you  to  live,  and  to  be  surrounded  and 
swept  down  the  course  of  time  by  the  sweet  winds  of 
God's  bounty,  and  you  requite  him  with  no  thought  or 
service  ? 

To  live  a  Christian  life  is  to  live  honorably ;  but  to 
live  a  sinful  life  is  to  live  vulgarly,  meanly,  contempt- 
ibly. And  I  beseech  you  to  remember  that  awful 
threat  which  is  pronounced  against  those  who  despise 
Christ  and  dishonor  God  by  disobedience,  of  whom  it  is 
said  that  they  shall  one  day  rise  to  shame  and  everlast- 
ing contempt. 


■■■  -^--  -17); 


XI. 
HAPPINESS. 

'And  he  said  unto  them,  Take  heed,  and  bewake  of  covet- 
ousNESs  [of  greediness]  :  for  a  man's  life  consisteth  not  in 
the  abundance  of  the  things  "WHICH  HE  PossEssETH."  —  Luke 
xii.  15. 

'0  say  that  one  should  live  for  his  own 
greatest  happiness  is  to  have  a  right  or  a 
wrong  impression,  according  to  what  is 
meant.  If  you  take  it  in  a  very  narrow 
and  ordinary  sense,  there  can  be  no  greater  wrong  pro- 
nounced. If  you  take  it  in  a  large  sense,  it  is  the 
assertion  of  a  very  important  trutli.  If  by  "seeking 
our  greatest  happiness "  we  mean  present  self-indul- 
gence, pungent  physical  pleasures,  low  forms  of  enjoy- 
ment, partial,  earthly,  without  the  element  of  reflection, 
without  continuity,  without  spiritual  harmony,  —  then 
to  seek  happiness  as  the  chief  end  of  our  existence  is 
a  very  foolish,  a  very  base,  and  a  very  wicked  thing. 
Pleasure,  used  in  a  strict  sense,  signifies  the  gratifica- 
tion of  the  senses  in  some  way ;  and  to  live  for  pleasure 
in  that  sense  is  indeed  base.  But  if  one  regards  hap- 
piness as  the  product  of  the  right  action  of  his  whole 
nature ;  if  the  truest  happiness  implies  the  development, 
the  education,  of  the  social  and  the  spiritual,  as  well 


HAPPIXESS.  257 

as  the  physical  elements  of  our  being ;  if  it  includes 
benevolence,  and  takes  on  the  here  and  the  hereafter  as 
well ;  if,  in  other  words,  our  conception  of  happiness  is 
one  which  requires  the  development  of  our  entire 
nature  for  time  and  for  eternity,  —  then  to  say  that  a 
man  should  seek  his  own  greatest  happiness  is  to 
declare  a  good  and  a  noble  thing.  It  is  right  to  live 
for  one's  greatest  happiness  if  he  have  a  true  inter- 
pretation of  what  that  is.  Xot  only  is  it  right,  but  it 
is  a  duty. 

Men  may  be  said  to  be  set  up  in  business  in  this 
world.  The  business  of  happiness  is  the  pursuit  to 
which  they  are  called.  Every  faculty,  acting  normally, 
has  an  appropriate  remuneration.  All  right  action  has 
peace,  or  refreshment,  or  a  low  degree  of  satisfaction ; 
or,  mounting  still  higher,  pleasure,  activity,  happiness, 
and  sometimes  even  ecstasy.  The  ordinary  forms  of 
satisfaction,  however,  are  the  most  likely  to  endure,  and 
are  the  most  wholesome.  But  the  business  of  life  is  so 
to  live  that,  your  nature  being  active,  there  shall  be  a 
response  in  appropriate  degrees  of  satisfaction,  that 
being  the  test  and  evidence  of  right  action  and  of  a 
right  condition. 

Since,  then,  we  are  set  up  in  business  in  this  world 
for  the  production  of  the  greatest  possible  amount  of 
happiness  and  for  the  creation  of  the  noblest  character, 
it  becomes  a  matter  of  transcendent  importance  how 
we  are  getting  along,  how  we  are  prospering,  in  that 
business.  It  is  a  matter  of  no  small  moment  to  examine 
critically  what  are  the  ways  of  doing  business  in  this 
trade  of  happiness.  It  behooves  us  to  inquire  what  are 
some  of  the  elements  on  which  a  true  and  enduring  and 


258  LECTURES   TO  YOUNG  MEN. 

harmonious  liappiiiess  depends.     A  few  of  these  I  will 
point  out. 

I.  Good  -pliysical  health,  and  such  comfort  as  is 
implied  by  that  term,  are  fundamental  elements  of 
happiness.  Not  that  men  who  are  morally  developed 
may  not  triumph  over  their  condition,  and  maintain  a 
certain  satisfaction  and  peace,  even  though  they  be 
sick ;  yet,  taking  men  as  a  whole,  it  is  evident  that 
the  Divine  Providence  intended  health  to  be  the 
substratum  of  happiness.  The  buoyancy  and  the 
resiliency  of  a  high  physical  state  of  health  are  them- 
selves no  small  satisfaction ;  and  they  underlie,  for  the 
most  part,  all  other  happiness.  For  although,  as  I  have 
said,  men  may,  in  spite  of  bodily  infirmities,  maintain 
mental  happiness,  the  cases  are  comparatively  excep- 
tional. There  is  a  heroism  in  it.  It  is  not  common. 
There  are  few  who  are  equal  to  it.  And  he  who  sacri- 
fices health  sacrifices  the  foundation  on  which  he  is  to 
build  everything  else.  We  require  health.  It  is  a  duty 
to  preserve  it.  A  man  is  not  always  sinful  for  having 
ill-health,  because  he  may  inherit  constitutional  liabili- 
ties to  it.  The  sins  of  the  parent  are  often  visited  on 
the  children.  The  drunkard  perpetuates  his  perverted 
taste,  and  the  leprous  man  his  leprosy,  far  down  into 
the  future.  Men  who  are  corrupters  not  only  suffer 
themselves  from  their  corruption,  but  entail  suffer- 
ing upon  their  posterity.  One  may  therefore  inherit 
disease  without  fault  of  his  own.  A  man  may  be 
blind  or  deaf  or  infirm  or  imbecile,  and  not  be  to 
blame.  But  where  sickness  is  the  result  of  one's  own 
carelessness,  or  of  his  excessive  indulgence,  or  of 
his  disobedience  to  natural  laws  which  are  within  his 


HAPPINESS.  259 

purview  and  knowledge,  he  is  sinful.  It  is  not  only 
men's  interest,  if  they  are  aiming  at  happiness,  but  it 
is  their  duty,  to  lay  a  broad  foundation  of  health.  The 
old  idea  that  men  should  mortify  and  crucify  the  flesh, 
that  they  should  by  fastings  and  flagellations  and 
watchings  reduce  the  vigor  of  the  body,  as  if  the 
spiritual  life  would  be  in  proportion  to  the  diminution 
of  the  physical  health,  was  long  ago  exploded,  and  has 
gone  to  the  moles  and  bats,  from  whence  it  came. 

He,  therefore,  who  in  youth  is  squandering  his  blood 
and  his  stock  of  stamina,  he  who  in  the  fever-beats  of 
youth  is  burning  up  in  a  year  or  two  that  which  should 
be  the  light  of  fifty  years,  is  destroying  himself  in  the 
very  acorn  or  germ. 

II.  Happiness,  according  to  the  laws  of  nature  and 
of  God,  inheres  in  voluntary  and  pleasurable  activities  ; 
and  activity  increases  happiness  in  proportion  as  it  is 
diffusive.  No  man  can  be  so  happy  as  he  who  is  en- 
gaged in  a  regular  business  that  tasks  the  greatest  part 
of  his  mind.  I  had  almost  said  that  it  is  the  teem  ideal 
of  happiness  for  a  man  to  be  so  busy  that  he  does  not 
know  whether  he  is  or  is  not  happy ;  that  he  has  not 
time  to  think  about  himself  at  all.  The  man  who  rises 
early  in  the  morning,  joyful  and  happy,  with  an  appe- 
tite for  business  as  well  as  for  breakfast ;  who  has  a  love 
for  his  work,  and  runs  eagerly  to  it  as  a  child  to  its 
play ;  who  finds  himself  refreslied  by  it  in  every  part 
of  his  day,  and  rests  after  it  as  from  a  wholesome  and 
delightful  fatigue,  —  has  one  great  and  very  essential 
element  of  happiness.  How  much  do  you  suppose  the 
stupid  and  slow-moving  turtles  know  of  happiness,  who 
lazily  crawl  out  of  the  slimy  pool  on  a  sunny  day  and 


260  LECTURES   TO  YOUNG  MEN. 

lie  unstirring  for  hours  together  ?  They  enjoy  as  much 
as  turtles  can  enjoy.  But  how  much  is  that?  So  the 
grunting  swine,  lying  in  the  corner  of  his  pen,  where 
the  sun  shines  full  on  him,  sleeping  through  the  clay, 
has  his  satisfaction.  He  is  as  happy  as  he  is  capable 
of  being  ;  but  how  happy  can  a  pig  be  ?  Men  who  are 
of  a  phlegmatic  temperament,  and  who  live  in  absolute 
indolence,  are  measurably  happy.  Their  ideal  of  hap- 
piness consists  in  being  released  from  care  and  activity, 
and  they  experience  a  low  degree  of  enjoyment;  but 
how  much  happiness  can  belong  to  such  a  mood  as  they 
must  necessarily  be  in  ?  They  are  in  a  state  which  is 
essentially  torpid,  and  which  has  no  resiliency.  If  the 
tow  is  corded  and  strained  tight,  and  then  struck,  it 
gives  forth  a  tone ;  but  if  you  strike  the  uncorded  tow 
as  it  lies  in  a  heap,  you  get  no  sound  from  it.  The 
nerves  of  some  men  are,  as  it  were,  in  a  flaccid  condi- 
tion, and  they  have  no  power  to  vibrate  or  respond  to 
the  touch.  The  human  mind  is  in  its  best  condition 
for  producing  enjoyment  when  it  is  intensely  active. 
If  occupation  is  congenial,  it  is  all  the  better ;  but  even 
if  it  is  not  congenial,  it  is  better  than  inactivity,  for  in- 
activity is  a  condition  out  of  which  comes  all  manner 
of  dissatisfactions.  Those  who  have,  as  a  part  of  their 
heau  ideal,  the  making  of  a  fortune,  the  accumulation 
of  an  abundance  which  shall  enable  them  by  and  by  to 
do  nothing,  are  building  a  fool's  paradise,  which  they 
will  not  enjoy  even  if  they  ever  get  it. 

III.  Variety,  versatility,  and  ever-freshly  changing 
employment  require  that  every  part  of  the  mind  should 
be  productive  in  order  to  the  fullest  happiness.  Man 
is  made  very  largely.     Wlien  he  was  laid  out,  he  was 


HAPPIXESS.  261 

not  laid  out  as  a  garden  with  one  bed  and  one  sort  of 
flowers.  God  meant  that  there  should  be  in  the  garden 
of  the  human  soul  a  great  many  beds  and  a  great  many 
kinds  of  flowers.  There  are  some  thirty  or  forty  indi- 
vidual faculties  in  the  human  make-up,  and  the  fullest 
enjoyment  requires  the  consentaneous  activity  of  them 
all.  But  to  put  on  foot  such  a  general  cerebral  energy 
as  that  would  involve,  would  be  exhausting.  There- 
fore the  action  of  men's  minds  changes,  and  in  turn 
every  part  of  them,  if  they  are  normally  active,  should 
be  exercised  between  sleep  and  sleep.  Each  day  there 
should  be  something  of  everything. 

If  one  half  of  the  branches  of  a  tree  bear  fruit  and 
the  other  half  are  barren,  it  is  a  poor  tree.  A  tree  that 
bears  every  other  year  is  better  than  none ;  but  it  is 
only  half  as  good  as  one  that  bears  every  year.  A 
musical  instrument  only  every  other  string  of  which 
emits  sound,  when  struck,  —  what  is  that  ?  Even 
Beethoven  coidd  not  bring  out  a  symphony  on  an  instru- 
ment where  every  other  note  was  omitted.  The  human 
soul  is  a  complex  thing.  One  part  works  into  another, 
and  stimulates  it  or  rests  on  it.  There  is  an  order  and 
arrangement  in  the  human  mind  by  which,  if  men  re- 
tain the  full  possession  of  every  part  of  their  interior 
selves,  and  exert  every  part  in  succession,  or  consen- 
taneously, they  touch  true  happiness,  and  happiness  of 
the  larf^est  kind  and  the  most  endurinc^. 

There  is  great  sublimity  in  this  ideal  manhood,  and 
in  the  largeness  of  the  conception  which  enters  into  the 
actual  creative  idea.  "We  see  it  in  some  persons  ;  but 
it  seems  to  me  that  the  great  majority  of  men  do  not 
attempt  to  cultivate  much  of  themselves.     A  few  acres 


262  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG  MEN. 

around  the  house  are  tilled,  but  the  outlying  estate 
beyond  that  is  almost  untouched. 

AVhat  are  men's  resources  for  happiness  in  the  aver- 
age of  cases  ?  Well,  pretty  good  health  and  reasonable 
comfort  in  eating  aiid  drinking  and  sleeping.  And 
these  are  not  to  be  despised.  Good  sleep  is  one 
luxury.  A  good  appetite  is  another.  Good  digestion 
is  another,  and  the  mother  of  a  great  many  others. 
They  are  all  right.  And  what  is  there  besides  these  ? 
A  low  form  of  social  good-nature.  They  are  cheery, 
they  greet  each  other  heartily,  and  they  are  reasonably 
happy.  They  experience  a  mild  form  of  enjoyment 
from  this  source.  What  else  is  there  ?  Well,  they 
think  that  they  are  on  the  way  to  some  degree  of  suc- 
cess in  business,  and  they  live  on  a  little."  What  else  ? 
Once  in  a  while  they  go  to  a  party  and  "  spree  it"  a  little. 
They  have  a  cataract  of  pleasure  all  at  once.  What 
else  ?  Well,  that  is  about  all,  unless  they  go  to  meet- 
ing and  get  converted  and  have  a  good  time.  This  is  a 
process  which  yields  a  distinct  spiritual  luxury.  They 
mount  up  suddenly  into  coruscations  of  feeling  that 
burn  bright  and  quick,  and  go  out  and  leave  nothing 
behind.  That  is  about  all  there  is  when  you  come  to 
count  up  what  most  men  have. 

What  would  you  think  if,  when  a  man  had  played 
on  some  great  organ  Yankee  Doodle  and  three  or  four 
waltzes,  he  could  play  nothing  else  ?  What  would 
you  think  if  he  knew  those  little  whistling  tunes  and 
only  those  ?  The  organ  has  the  power  of  coming  into 
sympathy  with  God's  thunder,  and  into  sweet  harmony 
with  all  the  birds  that  sing  through  the  air  in  spring. 
It  has  the  power  of  representing,  as  it  were,  the  breath 


HAPPINESS.  263 

of  flowers  and  the  thoughts  of  the  angels  that  sang  on 
Christmas  mm^ning;  and  what  would  you  think  of  a 
man  if  he  sat  down  to  a  grand  organ,  that  is  so  attuned 
to  harmony,  and  could  only  play  two  or  three  little 
fiddling  tunes  ? 

But  what  organ  did  the  hand  of  man  ever  build  with 
such  diapason  as  God  put  into  the  human  soul,  where 
there  are  notes  of  possible  manhood  which  run  as  high 
as  imagination  and  faith  and  hope  can  soar  ?  What 
other  instrument  has  such  pipes  as  those  which  belong 
to  the  soul  of  man  ?  And  what  do  men  bring  out  of 
that  grand  instrument  which  is  in  them  ?  What  tunes, 
what  melodies,  what  anthems,  what  symphonies,  is  it 
capable  of  producing !  and  yet  how  poor  are  the  pro- 
ducts of  it  in  the  soul  of  the  average  man ! 

Look  upon  men  who  are  seeking  pleasure.  I  con- 
demn them,  not  because  they  seek  pleasure,  but  because 
they  seek  it  in  such  ways,  —  in  ways  so  mean  and 
penurious ;  and  because,  though  they  seek  it  in  such 
ways,  they  think  themselves  to  be  happy. 

How  few  are  there  who,  if  one  source  of  enjoyment 
in  them  is  stopped,  have  another  to  fall  back  upon  !  A 
man's  business  goes  heavily ;  it  grows  worse  and  worse, 
and  finally  it  crumbles  to  pieces  and  leaves  him  in  the 
Eed  Sea  of  bankruptcy.  His  business  was  about  all 
there  was  of  him.  And  now  that  that  is  gone  he  is 
restless,  he  is  uneasy,  he  is  unhappy  ;  he  has  no  Avarm 
social  life,  full  of  checkered  lights  and  all  manner  of 
enjoyment  and  cheer  and  consolation,  in  which  he  can 
take  refuge.  He  has  no  fine  tastes  ;  so  that  though  he 
is  bankrupt,  thougli  he  has  been  ejected  from  house  and 
home,  though  all  his  pictures  are  gone,  and  though  his 


264  LECTURES  TO  YOUNG  MEN. 

musical  instruments  are  taken  away  from  liim,  he  still 
finds  pictures  which  the  morning  paints,  and  which  are 
painted  in  the  sky  at  evening,  where  God  has  been  the 
artist,  and  still  finds  music  in  the  air  such  as  no  in- 
strument fashioned  by  human  skill  can  produce.  The 
man  who  has  his  understanding  oj)en,  and  who  lives  in 
the  full  possession  of  his  faculties,  has  resources  which 
no  selfish  nature  can  touch  and  no  human  decree  can 
rub  out.  And  yet,  how  many  men  do  we  find  who, 
when  they  go  into  old  age  and  retire  from  active  busi- 
ness, are  exactly  like  a  man  who  has  carried  with  him 
all  his  days  a  knife  with  a  hundred  blades,  but  has  only 
opened  one,  and  that  the  big  blade !  He  has  worked 
and  worked  with  that  all  the  time ;  and  now  that  he 
has  got  to  be  an  old  man  he  thinks  that  he  will  try 
some  other  blade.  But  he  cannot  open  it.  It  has  never 
been  opened,  and  it  is  rusted  in  the  joint.  Or,  if  he 
succeeds  in  forcing  it  open,  he  cannot  do  anything  with 
it.  It  never  has  been  used,  and  it  is  not  fit  for  use. 
He  tries  another.  That,  too,  is  rusted  and  spoiled.  All 
of  them  are  ruined  except  one  or  two  which  he  has 
been  accustomed  to  use,  and  they  are  so  worn  down 
that  they  are  pretty  much  gone.  They  have  no  good 
cutting  edge.  Therefore  he  is  not  much  better  off  than 
he  would  be  if  he  had  no  knife. 

There  are  many  business  men  who  have  very  little 
intellectual  resource,  very  little  resource  in  taste,  and 
very  little  in  social  life.  They  have  been  brought  up 
to  do  a  few  things,  and  they  have  derived  all  their  hap- 
])iness  from  a  few  sources.  And  when  those  sources 
fail  they  have  nothing  else  to  turn  to. 

Here  is  the  soul  of  m'an,  with  ranks  and  gradations 


HAPPINESS.  265 

of  faculties,  with  cliamber  after  chamber  filled  with 
wondrous  powers;  but  they  are  inert  and  iinused. 
There  is  no  life  in  them.  They  are  not  applied  to  any 
worthy  object.  Nothing  is  more  common  than  to  see 
men  who  have  been  successful  in  narrow  lines  thrown 
out  of  the  channels  where  their  success  has  been 
achieved,  and  left  without  any  resources  for  happiness. 
Their  activities  have  been  partial,  and  for  the  most 
part  of  a  basilar  kind  ;  but  the  indispensable  condition 
of  happiness  is  that  every  part  of  a  man's  nature  shall 
be  made  active. 

Education,  then,  looking  at  it  in  this  large  way,  is 
not  simply  preparing  a  man  with  a  good  edge  to  do 
business  with.  We  often  hear  people  talk  about  the 
fitness  of  their  children  for  certain  things.  "  George 
does  not  seem  calculated  to  fall  into  very  active  ways ; 
he  is  quiet,  and  perhaps  a  little  stupid.  I  think  he  will 
make  a  s^ood  minister.  We  will  send  him  to  collesje. 
But  Edward  is  active,  energetic ;  every  edge  cuts  with 
him.  I  think  he  had  better  be  a  merchant.  We  will 
make  a  merchant  of  him."  But  are  you  not  going  to 
send  him  to  college  ?  "  0  no.  He  is  going  to  be  a 
merchant.  You  would  not  send  a  merchant  to  col- 
lege, would  you  ? "  Why  not  ?  AVhat  is  an  education 
for  ?  Is  it  simply  an  investment  in  business,  or  is  it 
an  investment  in  manhood  ?  Do  you  educate  your 
children  simply  that  they  may  succeed  in  a  certain 
profession,  or  that  they  may  succeed  in  themselves,  — 
in  what  they  are  ?  I  say  that  education  means  a  true 
manhood  all  through ;  and  if  I  had  the  means  to  do  it, 
I  would  educate  my  boy  if  he  was  going  to  be  a  black- 
smith, or  if  he  was  going  before  the  mast  as  a  common 
12 


2G6  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG  MEN. 

sailor.  In  other  words,  I  would  develop  in  liim  all  of 
liimself  that  God  gave  him.  What  education  means  is 
to  give  a  man  the  full  use  of  all  his  powers.  To  stuff  a 
man  is  not  to  educate  him,  any  more  than  stuffing  a 
trunk  with  books  is  educating  that  trunk.  A  man  is 
educated  who  has  learned  what  he  is,  and  knows  how  to 
use  himself,  and  how  to  bring  out  of  himself  that  which 
belongs  to  manhood  here  and  hereafter.  Every  man 
should  be  educated,  and  every  woman  should  be  edu- 
cated, no  matter  where  they  are,  —  only  mark  this :  that 
while  their  external  relations  may  require  certain  edu- 
cations, their  own  nature  requires  all  the  more  educa- 
tion if  they  cannot  make  merchandise  of  it. 

Those  are  the  most  neglected  in  their  education  who 
need  education  most.  If  those  who  are  in  the  busy 
whirl  of  practical  life,  and  who  are  prosperous,  can  get 
along  without  it,  they  who  are  so  circumstanced  that 
they  cannot  be  active,  and  who  are  not  blessed  with 
outward  prosperity,  cannot  get  along  without  it. 
Those  who  are  poor  and  retired,  and  have  no  other 
stimulus,  ought  to  have  large  mental  resources.  Their 
eyes  should  be  open  in  every  direction,  that  they  may 
compensate  themselves  for  the  want  of  external  endow- 
ments. I  plead  for  education,  not  because  it  is  the 
liighway  to  prosperity  in  law  or  in  medicine  or  in  the 
pulpit  or  in  political  life  or  in  science,  but  because  it 
means  manhood.  All  parts  of  the  mind  waked  up, 
made  productive,  made  sensitive  to  the  touch  of  God, 
are  the  source  of  real  joy.  When,  therefore,  I  say  that 
a  condition  of  happiness  is  variety,  versatility,  and  pro- 
ductiveness in  every  part  of  a  man's  nature,  I  plead  for 
education  in  this  large  sense  as  the  indispensable  con- 


HAPPINESS.  267 

dition  of  a  continuing,  complex,  and  perpetuated  hap- 
piness. 

It  is  worth  our  while  to  think  for  a  moment  as  to 
the  productiveness  in  pleasure  of  the  different  parts  of 
the  soul.  All  of  them  are  more  or  less  productive 
of  pleasure.  I  do  not  say  that  there  is  no  pleasure  in 
lower  forms  of  indulgence.  A  glutton  has  pleasure,  or 
he  would  not  be  a  glutton.  It  would  be  absurd  to  say 
that  there  is  an  effect  without  a  cause.  Tliere  is  a 
pleasure  in  getting  drunk,  I  suppose.  There  is  a 
pleasure  which  the  miser  feels.  There  is  a  pleasure 
which  the  envious  man  feels.  There  is  rejoicing  in 
iniquity.  "Wrong-doing  confers  a  certain  sort  of  pleas- 
ure. Every  part  of  the  nature  of  man  has  its  own  mode 
of  pleasure. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  the  exaltation  of  morality,  it  is 
not  necessary  to  the  making  of  religion  attractive,  to 
undertake  to  say  that  nobody  can  be  happy  unless  he 
is  a  religious  man.  That  is  not  true.  A  great  many 
religious  men  are  not  happy,  and  a  great  many  irreligious 
men  are  happy.  To  say  that  a  man  can  enjoy  more  in 
a  religious  life  than  he  can  in  a  lower  life  is  to  say  the 
truth,  altliough  it  is  not  everybody  that  finds  it  out. 
My  impression  is  that,  in  a  general  way,  that  part  of 
our  nature  which  comes  in  contact  with  the  physical, 
and  controls  it,  has  the  most  sudden  and  the  most  sharp 
exhilaration  of  pleasure,  but  the  briefest.  The  flavor 
passes  from  the  tongue,  and  is  gone.  All  physical 
pleasures  are  momentary,  however  intense  they  may 
be,  and  there  is  very  little  memory  of  them.  And 
although  these  very  pleasures  are  real,  they  are  shallow 
and  unstable.     They  are  inadequate,  and  do  not  cling 


268  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG  MEN. 

to  US.  They  do  not  fill  the  mind  with  associations 
which  afterwards  revisit  it,  as  the  higher  forms  of 
pleasure  do. 

Next  to  these,  men  think,  are  the  better  forms  of 
social  intercourse.  These  certainly  are  higher  elements 
of  pleasure  than  those  which  we  have  just  been  con- 
sidering,—  higher  in  this  regard,  that  each  particular 
emotion,  though  milder,  has  greater  continuity.  Social 
pleasures  bring  self-respect ;  they  bring  out  a  sense  of 
kindness  and  benevolence ;  they  diffuse  a  higher  in- 
fluence through  the  mind  than  mere  physical  pleasures 
do.  They  develop  a  new  atmosphere  in  us,  so  that, 
although  they  may  not  be  so  intense  as  physical  pleas- 
ures, they  are  more  conducive  to  enjoyment.  The 
flavor  may  not  be  so  pungent,  but  the  sum  of  the 
happiness  which  we  derive  from  them  is  very  much 
greater.  ♦ 

Men  may  be  too  greedy  of  pleasure,  just  as  they  may 
be  too  greedy  of  interest.  I  have  heard  capitalists  say 
that  seven  per  cent  good  sound  legal  interest  is  in  the 
long  run  the  only  safe  interest  to  take,  and  that  men 
who  insist  on  taking  ten  or  fifteen  per  cent  take  it  at 
risks  which  the  average  experiences  of  business  men 
show  to  be  unwise.  However  that  may  be  in  money 
matters  (for  that  is  a  realm  in  which  my  judgment  is 
very  imperfect),  it  is  certainly  so  in  the  traffic  of  the 
soul.  If  you  take  too  high  an  interest,  you  will  be 
bankrupt.  The  man  who  wants  to  make  more  pleasure 
in  any  part  than  rightfully  belongs  to  it,  the  man  who 
will  not  take  low  interest  and  have  it  paid  continuously 
and  promptly,  is  very  foolish.  The  interchange  of  ten 
thousand  little  feelings,  the  by-play,  the  internal  play, 


HAPPINESS.  .      269 

the  external  play,  of  social  life,  —  all  these  are  far  more 
fruitful  of  happiness  than  intense  physical  pleasure, 
which  is  merely  transient.  If  you  count  along  the  line 
of  these  minute  enjoyments,  how  much  is  the  sum  of 
them !  How  much  they  minister  to  self-respect,  as 
well  as  to  happiness  ! 

Then  we  come  to  a  still  higher  form  of  pleasures,  — 
those  derived  from  semi-moral  faculties,  —  where  we 
become  executive,  creative,  and  fashion  things  in  life, 
exercising  power  and  skill,  and  that  for  kind  and 
benevolent  purposes.  A  peculiar  sensation  of  pleasure 
proceeds  from  this  source.  "VYhere  there  is  develoj)ment 
and  activity  of  the  higher  range  of  faculties  for  noble 
purposes,  it  is  as  if  an  angel  touched  us.  There  is  more 
joy  in  a  sinple  hour  of  such  activity  than  there  is  in 
days  of  the  lower  forms  of  delight. 

But  a  man  does  not  touch  his  supremest  happiness 
until  he  is  thoroughly  spiritualized,  until  he  inhabits 
the  whole  higher  range  of  his  being,  —  that  part  of  the 
soul  which  came  from  God,  and  touches  God  again,  and 
which  receives  the  immediate  inspiration  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,  by  which  every  other  part  of  his  nature  is  held 
in  control  and  warmed  and  illumined.  In  that  higher 
range  the  pleasure  is  ecstatic,  not  boisterous ;  not  de- 
monstrative, not  taking  on  the  forms  that  l^ash  and  emit 
sparks,  but  peaceful,  inward,  unutterable  thoughts  of 
the  highest  possibilities  in  life. 

Connected  with  this  last  form  of  pleasure  there  is  no 
after  pain.  It  is  wine  whicli  one  may  drink  to  tlie 
very  bottom.  It  brings  neither  intoxication  at  the 
present  nor  pang  afterwards.  The  highest  joy  lies 
in  tlie  plenary  inspiration  of  the  highest  feelings  of 
the  soul. 


270  LECTUKES   TO   YOUNG  MEN. 

And  there  is  this  additional  thing  :  that,  while  the 
bottom  never  commands  the  top,  the  top  commands  the 
intermediate  and  the  bottom,  all  througli.  A  man  who 
lives  in  a  true  spiritual  union  with  God,  and  wlio  has 
developed  every  part  of  himself,  has  a  perfect  right  to 
all  that  iies  below  him  of  animal  enjoyments  and  social 
pleasures.  And  these  enjoyments  and  pleasures  are 
nobler  and  better  to  him  because  he  views  them  in  the 
light  of  his  higher  feelings. 

Do  you  suppose  the  gourmand  who,  sitting  alone,  his 
eyes  standing  out  with  fatness,  gulps  his  food,  enjoys  it 
as  much  as  that  child  of  mercy  enjoys  hers  ?  She  who 
has  gone  on  foot  with  the  army,  ministering  to  the 
wounded  and  the  sick,  and  spending  her  very  life  in 
the  service  of  others,  worn  out  with  fatigue,  and  sitting 
down  in  the  corner,  at  last,  where  the  sun  may  warm 
her  attenuated  form,  as  she  eats  the  hard-tack  and  the 
plainest  meat,  perhaps  half  cooked,  to  supply  her  neces- 
sity,—  do  you  not  suppose  that  that  morsel  tastes  as 
sweet  to  her  as  the  delicacies  of  tlie  glutton  do  to  him  ? 
I  believe  it  does.  And  if  she  afterward,  in  a  moment 
of  leisure,  is  brought  to  a  banquet,  do  you  suppose  the 
fact  that  she  lives  in  the  higher  realm  of  benevolence 
prevents  lier  enjoying  that  banquet  ?  Do  you  suppose 
that  her  elevation  takes  away  from  her  pleasure  when 
such  rarer  physical  deliglits  are  multiplied  around  about 
her.  I  think  that  a  godly  man's  food  tastes  as  good  to 
him  as  a  sinner's  does  to  him,  and  sometimes  a  great 
deal  better.  It  is  supposed  that  when  we  live  in  our 
higher  life  we  abandon  the  lower  life.  No.  We  use  it 
better.  We  take  it  in  harmony  with  all  our  higher 
instincts. 


HAPPIXESS.  271 

I  remark,  still  further,  that  not  only  are  the  lower 
forms  of  pleasure  more  evanescent  than  the  higher 
forms,  but  that,  while  they  are  strong  at  the  beginning 
of  life,  they  decrease  in  power  to  the  end ;  whereas  the 
pleasures  which  we  derive  from  the  upper  part  of  the 
mind,  while  they  are  the  smallest  at  the  beginning  of 
life,  continually  increase  all  the  way  through.  Tlie 
wedge  is  reversed.  Animal,  physical  pleasures  begin 
large  and  attractive,  but  run  tapering  to  an  edge,  and 
die  out  by  the  time  one  becomes  reasonably  old.  AVhen 
the  health  begins  to  fail,  and  the  eye  begins  to  grow 
dim,  and  the  ear  is  heavy  of  hearing,  and  the  foot  is 
weary  of  moving,  and  the  muscles  are  softening,  and 
the  nerves  do  not  know  any  more  how  to  vibrate  and 
flash  fire  as  once  they  did,  —  then  it  is  that  these 
pleasures  abandon  a  man.  As  one  grows  old  he  finds 
that  physical  pleasures  forsake  him ;  and  if  his  only 
dependence  for  happiness  has  been  upon  these,  his 
after-life  is  poor  and  miserable.  But  he  who  does  not 
sacrifice  higher  physical  pleasures  to  low  sensuous 
pleasures  has  sources  of  enjoyment  which  go  on  with 
him  to  the  end  of  life;  so  that' if  friends  forsake  him, 
and  his  property  is  gone,  and  heart  and  flesh  fail,  and 
the  eye  is  blind,  and  the  ear  is  deaf,  and  he  stands  on 
the  edge  of  the  grave,  brighter  than  ever  is  the  light  of 
faith.  Then  hope  illumines  the  whole  horizon.  Theji 
love  cheers.  The  man  who  has  lived  in  the  fear  of 
God,  and  in  the  love  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and 
with  the  inspiration  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  finds  the 
beginnings  of  this  life  happy,  and  learns  tliat  his  hap- 
piness increases  and  deepens  as  it  rolls  on,  until  at  last 
it  is  like  the  Amazon  where  it  mingles  with  the  ocean. 


272  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG   MEN. 

Higher  pleasures,  which  at  first  do  not  look  promising, 
are  harmonious  and  continuous  ;  and  in  the  end  grow 
sweeter  and  richer,  and  are  never  so  great  as  at  the 
very  end,  where  most  we  need  them. 

In  view  of  these  illustrations  and  reasonings,  I  re- 
mark, first,  that  the  legitimate  activity  to  which  we 
are  called  in  the  providence  of  God,  in  securing  a 
livelihood  and  in  maintaining  our  households  and 
our  relations  in  society,  is  not  to  be  looked  upon  as 
burdensome  or  as  a  misfortune.  We  are  not  to  regard 
those  persons  as  being  the  most  happy  who  have 
the  least  to  do.  iSTeither  are  we  to  suppose  that  those 
only  are  on  their  way  to  happiness  who  are  obliged  to 
work  for  their  livelihood.  But  every  man  should  be 
active,  as  the  indispensable  condition  of  present  hap- 
piness ;  and  every  man's  happiness  should  be  of  such  a 
sort  that  it  shall  produce  happiness  again  by  and  by. 
Work  is  not  a  curse.  Drudgery  is.  Enforced  work, 
work  that  does  not  carry  the  heart  with  it,  work  un- 
illumined  by  the  mind,  work  with  the  hand  w^ithout  any 
connection  with  the  head,  —  that  is  a  curse.  But  true 
work  is  God's  bounty  and  blessing;  and  every  man 
should  be  active,  because  to  bring  out  the  faculties  in 
activity  by  work  is  the  very  road  to  happiness.  I 
think  that,  ordinarily  speaking,  men  are  not  so  happy 
outside  of  their  business  as  they  are  inside  of  it.  That 
is  good.  It  is  right.  As  a  general  thing,  men  who 
take  a  day  here  and  a  day  there  and  go  out  after  hap- 
piness do  not  find  it.  It  may  be  a  rest,  or  it  may  be  a 
satisfaction,  mucli  depending  upon  the  nature  of  it ;  but 
in  a  great  deal  of  that  which  men  seek  with  large  ex- 
penditure of  money  and  stamina  and  health,  they  are 


HAPPINESS.  273 

not  half  so  happy  as  they  are  in  their  regular  and 
normal  pursuits,  because  these  pursuits  keep  up  a 
gentle  activity  of  the  whole  mind,  and  they  have  their 
remuneration,  and  enjoy  it  more  from  day  to  day. 
When  they  go  out  on  purpose  for  pleasure,  it  is  exces- 
sive, exciting,  disturbing,  and  amounts  often  1:0  dissi- 
pation. Eelaxation  and  recreation  men  must  have,  or 
wear  out ;  but  the  real  enjoyment  of  life  to  an  active 
man  is  in  his  activity.  Again,  men  should  provide 
something  for  old  age  to  do.  They  should  so  educate 
themselves  to  be  active  that,  when  they  come  to  the 
end  of  their  life,  they  shall  still  find  that  they  have 
aptitudes  and  occupations  to  keep  the  mind  agoing. 
For  the  moment  we  cease  to  have  activity  we  cease  to 
have  life.  Kow  and  then  we  find  the  aged  living  with 
no  responsibility  and  no  care,  and  yet  with  a  certain 
degree  of  happiness ;  but  ten  times  oftener  we  find  that 
if  a  man  who  has  been  very  happy  and  very  healthy 
and  vigorous,  on  coming  to  be  sixty-five  years  of  age, 
drops  off  business,  and  goes  to  live  with  one  of  his 
children,  in  a  year  or  two  everybody  says,  "  How  he 
has  failed ! "  and  at  last  he  sickens  and  dies ;  while  if 
he  had  maintained  regular  and  normal  care  and  respon- 
sibility in  business,  he  would  have  lasted  ten  or  fifteen 
years  longer,  and  been  useful  withal.  Stopping  work 
is  bad  business  for  old  people. 

A  man  ought  to  have  some  provision  for  old  age.  A 
part  of  the  business  of  life  is  to  get  ready  to  be  wise ; 
and  if  you  have  only  two  or  three  things  that  you  can 
enjoy,  and  they  are  things  which  time  and  decay  may 
remove  from  you,  what  are  you  going  to  do  in  old  age  ? 
Suppose  a  man  builds  his  whole  life  on  the  enjoyment 

12*  R 


274  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG   MEN. 

wliicli  comes  from  amassing  wealth,  what  will  he  do 
when  the  time  comes  that  he  cannot  amass  any  more  ? 
The  whole  pleasure  of  his  life  has  been  derived  from 
that;  and  when  that  stojDS,  the  fountain  from  which 
his  happiness  has  proceeded  is  sealed  up  to  him.  He 
has  created  a  necessity  which  cannot  be  supplied  in 
his  old  age,  and  the  consequence  is  that  that  old  age 
will  be  miserable  to  him.  But  a  man  who  has  culti- 
vated every  part  of  his  being,  every  faculty  of  his 
nature,  may  retire  from  business,  and  yet  have  sources 
from  which  he  can  derive  satisfaction.  The  book  yet 
speaks  to  him.  He  has  commerce  with  men  who  are 
gone,  and  the  best  parts  of  them.  "The  spirits  of 
just  men  made  perfect "  are  good  books.  Where  a 
man  in  old  age  has  buoyancy,  activity  of  mind,  acute 
sensibility,  knowledge,  and  culture,  you  cannot  deprive 
him  of  enjoyment.  If  you  stop  up  one  resource,  he 
resorts  to  another.  If  you  cut  that  off,  he  takes  another. 
He  is  vital  in  every  part.  He  is  full  of  manhood.  Age 
does  not  pall  his  taste.  It  is  a  glorious  thing  to  see  a 
man  walking  full-freighted  with  activity  up  to  the  very 
gate  of  death,  and,  knocking,  find  that  it  is  the  gate  of 
heaven. 

Men  who  secure  riches  or  power  by  the  sacrifice  of 
manhood,  spending  themselves  by  piecemeal,  do  that 
than  which  nothing  could  be  more  foolish.  What  if  a 
man  should  collect  musical  instruments,  and  should, 
every  time  he  found  a  new  and  a  fine  one,  pay  for  it  by 
subtracting  something  from  his  power  of  hearing,  so 
that  when  he  had  filled  his  house  with  these  exquisite 
musical  instruments  he  was  stone  deaf,  —  what  good 
would  they  do  him  ? 


HAPPINESS.  275 

Suppose  a  man  should  buy  the  best  paintings  of  the 
old  masters,  and  the  choicest  pieces  of  the  new  artists, 
to  fill  his  gallery,  and  should  give  one  ray  of  eyesight 
for  every  new  picture,  so  that  when  he  had  finished  his 
collection  he  was  as  blind  as  a  bat,  —  what  good  would 
these  pictures  do  him  ?  Suppose  a  man  should  buy 
provision,  and  heap  his  barn  full,  and  fill  his  stalls 
with  fine  steeds  and  cattle,  and  fill  his  bins  with  grain, 
and  should  pay  for  these  numerous  treasures  by  giving 
up  one  part  after  auotlier  of  his  house,  so  that  wlien  he 
got  his  barn  w^ell  stored  he  should  have  no  house  to 
live  in,  —  how  much  would  he  enjoy  the  abundance  of 
his  winter's  provisions  ?  And  yet,  are  not  men  doing 
that  which  is  as  foolish  as  this  would  be  ?  Are  they 
not  paying  for  money  by  sacrificing  their  conscience  ? 
Many  of  them  are  saying,  "  It  is  not  possible  for  us  to 
prosper  in  business  if  we  stop  to  meddle  with  taste. 
"VYe  cannot  now  attend  to  sentimentality.  In  the 
conflicts  of  life  and  in  the  rivalries  of  business,  if  men 
are  going  to  succeed  they  must  push  right  ahead,  and 
not  stand  for  trifles."  For  success,  do  not  men  pay  their 
sensibility  ?  do  they  not  pay  their  household  enjoy- 
ments ?  do  they  not  pay  wholesome  pleasures  ?  And 
when  they  have  at  last  attained  success,  have  they  not 
given  up  the  best  part  of  their  being,  and  are  they  not 
utterly  unfitted  to  enjoy  that  success  ? 

"  A  man's  life  consisteth  not  in  tlie  abundance  of  the  things 
which  he  possesseth." 

Look  at  the  excuse  of  tlie  man  spoken  of  by  our 
Master  in  the  parable,  who  said,  — 

"  What  shall  I  do,  because  I  have  not  room  where  to  bestow 
my  fruits?" 


276  LECTURES  TO   YOUNG  MEN. 

It  is  as  if,  in  modern  parlance,  a  man  slioulcl  say, 
"  How  shall  I  invest  my  money  ?  Which  are  the  safest 
stocks  ?  Where  shall  I  put  my  capital  ?  What  shall  I 
do  with  my  accumulating  interest  ? 

"  And  he  said,  This  will  I  do  :  I  will  pull  down  my  barns  and 
build  greater ;  and  there  will  I  bestow  all  my  fruits  and  my 
goods." 

And  now  see  how  the  fool  talks :  — 
"And  I  will  say  to  my  soul:  Soul,  thou  hast  much  goods  laid 
up  for  many  years  ;  take  thine  ease,  eat,  drink,  and  be  merry." 

Do  you  suppose  that  these  things  are  soul-food  ? 
Is  wealth  the  proper  sustenance  for  the  spirit  ?  What 
a  fantasy  of  folly  was  this !  Can  one's  manhood  be 
built  np  merely  by  the  possession  of  treasure  ?  When 
men  have  acquired  money  they  instantly  begin  to  feel 
that  it  is  inadequate.  Their  restlessness  is  not  satis- 
fied. Much  as  it  is,  they  call  for  more,  and  more,  and 
more;  but  it  does  not  bring  the  gratification  which 
they  want.  They  feel  the  need  of  men's  sympathy  and 
confidence. 

Oftentimes  you  will  find  men  who  have  been  penu- 
rious all  their  lives,  and  who  have  amassed  a  fortune, 
attempting  to  buy  respect  in  their  old  age.  Sometimes 
they  do  it  by  making  their  will,  and  letting  it  be  known 
what  they  are  going  to  do.  That  is  an  exquisite  piece 
of  trickery.  Where  a  man  wants  to  keep  his  money, 
and  also  wants  to  have  the  credit  of  giving  it  away,  he 
holds  on  to  it,  and  lets  it  be  known  that  he  is  going  to 
give  $250,000  for  benevolent  purposes,  — $  10,000 
here,  $  20,000  there,  $  50,000  somewhere  else,  and  so 
on.  There  are  many  men  who  are  going  to  be  very 
generous  when  they  die.     Dead  men  are  always  gener- 


HAPPINESS.  277 

Oils.     They  keep  their  money  while  they  live,  and  only 
give  it  away  when  they  no  longer  own  it. 

When  men  are  surrounded  by  all  that  earth  can 
give  them,  —  by  position,  by  circumstance,  by  plenary 
physical  blessings,  —  how,  after  all,  do  they  long  for 
more !  How  piteous  it  is  to  see  them !  J^othing  on 
earth  seems  to  me  more  piteous  than  the  crying  out  of 
the  soul  for  something  better  than  this  lower  w^orld  can 
give. 

A  child,  drawn  away  from  its  home  into  a  g}^psy 
camp,  cries  for  its  father  and  mother,  but  by  kindness 
and  soothing  it  is  hushed  and  quieted  down.  And  yet 
it  sobs  in  its  sleep.  And  when  it  wakes  up  it  cries  for 
its  parents  again.  It  is  quieted  again,  but  still  it  is 
heart-sick  and  homesick  for  its  father  and  mother. 

So  man's  soul  cries  out  in  the  midst  of  wealth  and 
outward  comforts,  and  is  not  satisfied,  and  longs  and 
pines,  and  does  not  know  what  ails  it.  No  man's  soul 
can  rest  until  it  touches  God's  soul.  No  man  can  be 
happy  until  he  is  made  happy  by  the  disclosure  of  the 
royalty  of  the  Divine  nature. 

Once  more,  let  me  say  that  if  you  suppose  that 
Christianity,  rightly  viewed  and  interpreted,  is  offended 
at  lower  happiness,  you  are  greatly  mistaken.  You 
must  have  Christianity  from  top  to  bottom.  It  does 
not  prevent  our  being  happy.  It  does  not  make  us 
miserable.  It  may  sometimes  be  necessary  for  our  joy 
to  be  turned  into  sadness.  But  in  order  that  you  may 
be  happy,  put  down  rebellion  in  yourself.  Compel 
those  lusts  and  appetites  which  are  usurping  the  place 
of  your  noblest  nature  to  submit.  Put  the  yoke  on 
them.     And  if  it  makes  them  suffer,  that  is  their  look- 


278  LECTURES  TO   YOUNG   MEN. 

out.  For  the  sake  of  joy,  for  the  sake  of  full  and  en- 
during happiness,  subordinate  your  whole  life  to  the 
counsel  of  God,  and  fill  the  soul  with  education,  with 
development,  with  power.  Let  no  one  part  of  it  carry 
you  wrong  and  take  possession  of  your  whole  life.  Let 
there  be  no  dividing.  Let  that  which  belongs  to  the 
spirit  be  filled  with  spirituality,  that  which  belongs  to 
life  be  filled  with  life,  that  which  belongs  to  domestic 
work  be  filled  with  domestic  work,  that  which  belongs 
to  the  earth  be  filled  with  the  earth.  Let  all  parts  be 
cultivated  and  devoted  to  their  proper  uses,  and  all  con- 
secrated to  the  joyful  service  of  God. 

It  is  not  enough  for  a  man  to  build  a  ship  so  that  it 
looks  beautiful  as  it  stands  on  the  stocks.  What  though 
a  man  build  his  vessel  so  trim  and  graceful  that  all 
admire  it,  if  when  she  comes  to  be  launched  she  is  not 
fit  for  the  sea,  if  she  cannot  stand  stormy  weather,  if  she 
is  a  slow  sailer  and  a  poor  carrier,  if  she  is  liable  to  foun- 
der on  the  voyage  ?  A  ship,  however  pretty  she  may  be, 
is  not  good  for  anything  unless  she  can  battle  with  the 
deep.  That  is  the  place  to  test  her.  All  her  fine  lines 
and  grace  and  beauty  are  of  no  account  if  she  fails 
there.  It  makes  no  difference  how  splendidly  you 
build  so  far  as  this  world  is  concerned,  your  life  is  a 
failure  unless  you  build  so  that  you  can  go  out  into 
the  great  future  on  the  eternal  sea  of  life.  We  are  to 
live  on.  We  are  not  to  live  again,  but  we  are  to  live 
without  break.  Death  is  not  an  end.  It  is  a  new 
impulse.  We  are  discharged  out  of  this  life,  where  we 
have  been  like  arrows  in  a  quiver.  Death  is  a  bow 
which  sends  us  shooting  far  beyond  this  earthly  expe- 
rience into  another  and  a  higher  life.     Woe  be  to  that 


HAPPINESS.  279 

man  who  is  rich  for  this  world  and  bankrupt  for  the 
other.  Woe  be  to  that  man  who  so  lives  here  that  he 
will  have  nothing  hereafter.  Woe  be  to  that  man  who 
when  he  dies  leaves  everything  behind  him  for  whicli 
he  has  spent  all  the  energies  of  his  life.  Woe  be  to 
that  man  who  so  uses  this  world  that  it  makes  him 
useless  for  the  world  to  come.  Heart-life,  soul-life, 
hope,  joy,  and  love  are  true  riches.  Such  riches  a 
man  will  carry  through  the  grave  with  him.  jSTo  man 
can  take  his  house  nor  his  merchandise  nor  his  ships 
with  him  when  he  dies.  A  man's  books,  his  fame,  his 
political  influence,  his  physical  enjoyment,  his  granary, 
his  farm,  his  team,  his  loaded  w\ain,  —  these  things  stop 
on  this  side  of  the  grave.  The  gate  of  death  is  not  big 
enough  to  let  them  through.  Kobody  carries  his  body 
through  the  grave. 

"  W^e  brought  nothing  into  this  life,  and  we  can  carry 
nothing  out  of  it,"  it  is  said.  That  is  true  of  tlie 
physical ;  but  0,  we  can  carry  something  out !  We 
receive  life  as  a  spark,  and  we  can  make  it  glow  like  a 
beacon  light ;  and  that  w^e  can  carry  with  us  when  we 
go.  Faith  and  hope  kindled  and  exercised,  —  these  we 
can  carry  out.  Love  to  God  and  love  to  our  fellow- 
beings, —  that  we  can  carry  out.  The  best  parts  of 
ourselves  we  can  carry  out.  When  the  farmer  goes 
into  his  field  in  the  autumn  to  harvest  his  grain,  he 
takes  the  head  of  the  wdieat.  That  is  wliat  he  cares 
for.  It  matters  little  to  him  if  the  straw  and  the  chaff 
go  to  the  ground  again.  Tn  taking  the  wheat  he  takes 
that  for  which  these  things  were  provided.  He  takes 
the  ripe  kernel,  and  leaves  behind  the  straw  and  the 
chaff,  which  were  simply  designed  to  serve  as  wrappers 


280  LECTURES   TO   YOUNG   MEN. 

for  the  growing  and  ripening  grain.     The  ripe  grain,  — 
that  we  carry  out. 

See  to  it,  then,  that  you  so  live  that  when  the  death- 
signal  comes  it  shall  come  to  you  as  a  call  from  the 
New  Jerusalem.  Go  not  out  as  men  who  run  before 
the  scourge.  Go  not  out,  as  in  the  morning  the  reluc- 
tant field-hands  are  driven  forth,  —  slaves  to  their  tasks. 
Go  out  with  your  bosom  filled  with  sheaves,  as  the 
reapers  go  from  the  field  to  their  home,  singing  and 
rejoicing  on  the  way.  Go  mourned  here  and  longed 
for  there.  Go  with  the  impulse  of  eternal  joy  in  you, 
because  you  love  and  are  beloved. 


THE    END 


Cambridge  :  Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  Welch,  Bigelow,  &  Co. 


SOME  GOOD  BOOKS. 

FOK  SALE  BY  ALL  BOOKSELLERS,  OR  MAILED,  POST-PAID,  TO  ANY  ADDRESS, 
ON  RECEIPT  OF  THE  PRICE,  BY  THE  PUBLISHERS. 


J.  B.   FOED  AXD   C0MPA:^Y, 

No.  27  Park  Place,  New  York. 


BEECHER'S   SERMONS  :  First,  Second,  Third,  Fourth,  Fifth,  and 

Sixth  Series.  From  phonographic  reports  by  T.  J.  Ellinwood,  for  fifteen  jears 
Mr.  Beecher's  special  reporter.  Uniformly  bound  in  dark  brown  English  cloth. 
Single  volumes,  each  complete,  price,  I:p2.50  ;  full  set  of  six  volumes  for  SH-dO. 
Bound  in  half  morocco,  Sj;  5  per  vol. 

Of  the  first  volume  the  Advance,  of  Chicago,  said  :  — 

"  The  volume  is  a  handsome  one,  and  is  prefaced  with  the  best  portrait  of  Mr. 
Beecher  we  have  ever  seen.  The  sermons  are  twenty-seven  in  number,  the  regular 
Sumlay  morning  discourses  of  six  months,  and  are  a  wonderful  testimony,  not  only  to 
the  real  goodness  of  heart  of  the  great  Plymouth  preacher,  but  to  the  fertility  of  re- 
source, industry  of  thought,  and  rare  abdity  which  can  keep  liis  regular  ministi-ationa 
to  such  a  height  of  average  excellence." 

.  .  .  .  "These  corrected  sermons  of  perhaps  the  greatest  of  living  preachers, —  a 
man  whose  heart  is  as  warm  and  cathohc  as  his  abilities  are  great,  and  whose  sennons 
combine  fidelity  and  Scriptural  truth,  great  power,  glorious  imagination,  fervid 
rhetoric,  and  vigorous  reasoning,  with  intense  human  sympathy  and  robust  common 
sense."  —  British  Quarterly  Review. 

Each  succeeding  volume  contains,  also,  six  montlis'  sermons  (from  450  to  500  pp.) 
issued  in  style  uniform  with  the  First  Series.  The  Second  Series  contains  a  fine 
interior  view  of  Plymouth  Church.    The  other  volumes  are  not  illustrated. 


LECTURE-ROOM  TALKS.     A  series  of  Familiar  Discourses, 

on  Themes  of  Christian  Experience.  By  Henrt  Ward  Beecher.  Phono- 
graphically  reported  by  T.  J.  ELLDfwooD  ;  with  Steel  Portrait.  12mo,  extra 
cloth.     Price,  S  1.75. 

"J.  B.  Ford  &  Co.,  who  are  now  printers  and  publishers  to  the  Beecher  familv, 
have  collected  in  a  handsome  volume  the  Lecture-Boom  Talkx  of  the  Brot-klyn 
preacher,  held  in  the  weekly  praycr-meoting  of  the  Plymouth  Church.  There  is  a 
great  deal  uf  humorous  talk  mingled  with  much  that  is  serious  and  the  subjects  dis- 
cussed are  of  the  most  varied  kind.  It  is  a  channing  hoo\i.  —  Springjie'ld  (,Mass.) 
Republican. 

MY  WIFE  AND  I  ;  or,  Harry  Henderson's  History.  A 
Novel.  By  IIarrikt  Beecher  Stowe.  "illustrated  by  II.  L.  Stephens.  47i 
pages  ;  extra  cloth,  stamped  cover,  $  1.75. 

This  novel  is  the  success  of  the  year.  It  has  been  selling  very  rapidly  ever  since 
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strong  because  subtle,  keen  in  sarcasm,  full  of  wom.inly  logic  directed  against  un- 
womanly tendencies,  Mrs.  .<^towc  hob  achieved  an  unbounded  success  in  this  her 
latest  efiovtJ"  —  Boston  Journal. 


MATERNITY :  A  Popular  Treatise  for  Wives  and  Mothers. 

Hy  T.  S.  Vekdi,  A.  M.,  M.  D.,  of  Washington,  D.  C.  II:indsouiely  printed  ou 
tiue  paper,  bevellt'd  boards,  extra  English  clotli.  12uio.  450  pp.  I'rice, 
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"  There  are  few  intelligent  mothers  who  will  not  be  benerited  by  reading  and  licep- 
ing  by  them  lor  frecjuent  counsel  a  volume  so  rich  in  valuable  suggestions.  With  its 
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"  We  hail  the  appearance  of  this  work  with  true  pleasure.  It  is  dictated  by  a  pure 
and  liberal  spirit,  and  will  be  a  real  boon  to  many  a  young  mother."  —  American  Mtd- 
ical  Observer  {Detroit). 

THE  CHILDREN'S  WEEK :  Seven  Stories  for  Seven  Days. 
By  R.  W.  llAYMOND.  16mo.  Nine  full  page  illustrations  by  H.  L.  Stephens 
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children  will  wt  Iconic  it  with  glee.  i\lr.  Kaymond's  tales  have  won  great  popularity 
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comical  clement  of  the  book  ana  its  pure  and  beautiful  sentimcni."  —  Bujjalo  {JV,  V.) 
Commercial  Advertiser. 

THE    OVERTURE    OF    ANGELS.    By  Henry  Ward 

Beecher.  Illustrated  by  Uarry  1'enn.  lliimo,  tinted  paper,  extra  cloth,  gilt, 
i'rice,  $  2.00. 

This  exquisite  gift  book  is  an  excerpt  from  Mr.  Beecher"'s  great  work,  the  "  Life  of 
Jesus  the  Christ."  It  is  a  series  of  pictures,  in  the  author's  happiest  style,  of  the 
Angelic  Appearances,  giving  a  beautiful  and  characteristically  interesting  treatment 
of  all  the  events  recorded  in  the  Gospels  as  occurring  about  the  period  of  the  na- 
tivity of  our  Lord. 

"  The  f.tylc,  the  sentiment,  and  faithfulness  to  the  spirit  of  the  Biblical  record  with 
which  the  narrative  is  treated  are  characteristic  of  its  author,  and  will  commend  it  to 
many  readers,  to  whom  its  elegance  of  form  will  give  it  an  additional  attraction."  — 
Worcester  (Mass.)  Spy. 

"  A  perfect  fragment."  —  New  York  World. 

OUR   SEVEN  CHURCHES :  Eight  Lectures  by  THOMAS  K. 

Beecher.     16mo.     Paper,  60  cents  •,  extra  cloth,  %1 ;  cloth,  gilt,  $  1.25. 

"  The  eight  lectures  comprised  in  this  volume  are  conceived  in  a  spirit  of  broad 
liberality  as  refrct-hing  as  it  is  rare.  Ihey  evince,  in  the  most  gratifying  manner  pos- 
sible, how  easy  it  is  to  find  something  good  in  one's  neighbors  or  opponents,  or  even 
enemies,  if  one  tries  faithfully  to  do  so,  instead  of  making  an  effort  to  discover  a  fault 
or  a  weakness.  The  volume  is  one  which  should  have,  as  it  undoubtedly  will,  a  wide 
circulation."  —  Detroit  Free  Press. 

MINES,    MILLS,   AND   FURNACES  of  the  Precious  Metals 

of  the  United  States.  Being  a  complete  Exposition  of  the  General  Methods  em- 
ployed in  the  great  Mining  Industries  of  America,  including  a  Review  of  the 
present  Condition  and  Prospectsof  the  Mines  throughout  the  Interior  and  Paciiic 
States.  By  Bossiter  W.  IIaymond,  Ph.  I).,  United  States  Connnissioner  of 
Mining  Statistics,  President  American  Inst.  Mining  Engineers,  Editor  of  the 
EiiffineeritifT  and  jyitmnir  Jonriial,  author  of  "  The  Mines  of  the  West,"  "  Amer- 
ican Mines  and  Mining."  etc.,  etc.  1vol.  8vo.  566  pages.  Illustrated  with 
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of  views."  — yl/6aw»/  {N.  K)  Argus. 

"  His  scientific  ability,  his  practical  knowledge  of  mines  and  mining,  his  unerring 
judgment,  and,  finally,  th*-  enthnsia';m  with  which  he  enters  upon  his  work,  all  cora- 
lline to  fit  him  fur  his  position,  and  none  could  bring  to  it  a  greater  degree  of  upright- 
ness and  fairness."  —  Denver  ( Col.)  News. 


PRINCIPLES  OF  DOMESTIC  SCIENCE  :  As  applied  to  the 

Duties  anil  Pleasures  of  Home.  15y  Catharine  E.  Beecher  aud  IIakriet 
BiiECHER  c>TO\VE.  A  cuiupHct,  Timo  volume  ot  39U  padres  ;  profusely  illus- 
trated ;  well  priuted,  and  bound  in  neat  and  substantial  style.     Price,  S  2.00. 

Prepared  with  a  view  to  assist  in  training  young  women  for  the  distinctive  duties 
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with  especial  relcreuce  to  the  duties,  cares,  and  pleasures  o(  tl^c  family,  as  being  the 
place  where,  whatever  tne  political  developments  of  the  future,  woman,  from  her 
very  uature  of  body  and  of  spirit,  will  find  her  most  engrossing  occupation.  It  is 
full  of  interest  for  all  iutehig'  ut  girls  and  young  women. 

S^^  The  work  has  been  heartily  indorsed  and  adopted  by  the  directors  of  many 
of  the  leading  t  Colleges  and  Seminaries  for  young  women  as  a  text-book,  both  for 
study  and  reading. 

HISTORY  OF  THE   STATE   OF   NEW  YORK.     From  the 

date  of  the  Discovery  and  Settlements  on  Manhattan  Island  to  the  Present 
Time.  A  Text-Book  for  High  Schools,  Academies,  and  Colleges.  B)  S.  S.  Ran- 
dall, Superintendent  of  Public  Education  in  New  York  City.  12mo  vol  , 
393  pages.     Illustrated.     Price,  01.75 

The  author,  for  many  years  intimately  connected  with  the  management  of  our 
Public  Schools,  nas  written  with  aj\.tl  hiiinrledgc  if  what  teas  ne  lieri,  and  the  result 
is  a  clear,  compendious,  and  admirable  digest  of  all  the  important  events  in  the  life 
of  New  York  State  down  to  the  year  1871. 

"  This  work  contains  so  much  valuable  infomiation  that  it  should  bo  found  in  evcty 
bouse  in  the  State  as  a  volume  of  reference.  Its  value  for  use  in  educational  insti- 
tutions is  of  a  very  high  character."  — .A  or^/ie?72  Budget,  Troy  {,N.  Y.). 

l^]f^  Officially  adopted  by  the  Boards  of  Education  in  the  cities  of  New  York, 
Broolclyn,  and  Jersey  City  for  use  in  the  Public  Schools,  and  also  extensively  used  in 
Private  Schools  throughout  the  State,  both  as  a  text-book  and  alternate  reader. 


AY   PREPARATION. 
H.  W.  BEECHER'3  V/ORKS.     Uniform  edition.     This  is  a  set 

of  books  long  Peeded  in  the  trade.  It  will  include  "Norwood,"  "Lectures  to 
Y'oung  Men,"  "  I^yes  and  Ears,"'  "Summer  iu  the  Soul,"'  the  early  "Star 
Papers,"'  a  new  edition  of  "  l.ccture-Itoom  Talks,'"  and  other  works,  embracing 
eonie  which  are  now  out  of  print,  and  for  which  there  is  constant  call. 

The  first  volumes  issued  in  this  new  edition  of  Mr.  Beecher 's  minor  works  are 
YALE    LECTURES    ON    PREACHING, 
Price,  extra  cloth,  S  1-25  •,  half  calf,  S  2. 25  ;  and  a  new  edition  of 

LECTURES   TO   YOUNG    MEN, 
including  Beveral  new  lectures  never  before   pubUshed,  a  new  Introduction  by  the 
author,  etc,  etc. 
These  will  shortly  be  followed  by 

"STAR    PAPERS," 

including  much  new  matter  added  to  the  original  book. 


A  FKESH  BOOK  BY  GRACE  GREENWOOD. 

NEW  LIFE   IN   NEW   LANDS. 

Racy,  sparkling,  readable,  full  of  wit  and  keen  observation,  it  gives  a  series  of 
brilliant  pen  pictures  along  the  great  route  from  the  Mississippi  to  the  Pacific. 


4 

A  BRILLIANT  SUCCESS. 


20,000  IN  SIX  MONTHS !      RAPID   AND  CONTINUED  SALES ! ! 


500    Vol-ames    in    One 


AGENTS    WANTED 

FOR    THE 


Library  of  Poetry  and  Song, 

BEING 

Choice  Selections  from  the  Best  Poets, 

ENGLISH,  SCOTCH,  IRISH,    AND  AMERICAN,  INCLUDING  TRANS- 
LATIONS FROM  THE  GERMAN,  SPANISH,  etc. 

WITH   AN   INTRODUCTION 

By  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT, 

Under  whose  careful  Supervision  the  Work  ivas  Compiled. 

In  one  Superb  Large  Octavo  Volume  of  over  800  pages,  well  printed,  on  Fine 

Paper,  and  Illustrated  with  an  admirable  Portrait  on  Steel  of  Mr. 

Bryant,  together  with  twenty-six  Autographic  Fac-Similes 

on  Wood  of  Celebrated  Poets,   besides 

other  choice  Full-page  Engravings, 

by  the  best  Artists. 


The  handsomest  and  cheapest  subscription  book  extant.  A  Library  of 
over  500  Volumes  in  one  book,  whose  contents,  of  no  ephemeral  nature  or 
interest,  Avill  never  grow  old  or  stale.  It  can  be,  and  will  be,  read  and  re- 
read with  pleasure  as  long  as  its  leaves  hold  together. 

This  book  has  been  prepared  with  the  aim  of  gathering  into  a  single 
volume  the  largest  practicable  compilation  of  the  best  Poems  of  the 
English  language,  making  it  as  nearly  as  possible  the  choicest  and  most 
complete  general  collection  of  Poetry  yet  published. 


THE 


"LIBRARY  OF  POETRY  AND  SONG" 

Is  a  volume  destined  to  become  one  of  the  most  popular  books  ever 
printed.  It  is  truly  a  people's  book.  Its  contents  would  cost  hundreds 
of  dollars  in  the  books  whence  they  are  gleaned,  English  and  American  ; 
and,  indeed,  although  one  possessed  the  volumes,  the  reading  of  such  vast 
numbers  of  pages  would  be  a  labor  not  readily  undertaken  by  most  people, 
even  those  who  appreciate  poetry. 


The  New  York  Times, 

A  journal  well  known  the  country  over  for  high  literary  excellence  and 

correct  taste,  says  :  — 

"  This  verj'  handsome  volume  differs  from  all  collections  of  '  elegant  extracts,'  par- 
lor books,  and  the  like,  which  we  have  seen,  in  bein;,'  arranged  according  to  an  intel- 
ligible and  comprehensive  plan,  in  containing  selections  which  nearly  cover  the 
entire  historical  period  over  which  EngU^h  poeiry  extends,  and  in  embracing  matter 
suited  to  everv  conceivable  taste  and  every  variety  of  feeling  and  culture.  We  know 
of  no  Si niUar~ collection  in  the  English  lauguarje  ichich,  in  copiousness  andfedcity  of 

selection  and  ananrjement,  can  at  all  compare  with  it Ihe  volume  is  a  model  of 

typographical  clearness." 

The  Albany  Evening  Journal, 

One  of  the  oldest  papers  and  highest  hterary  standards  in  the  country, 
says  :  — 

"  It  is  undoubtedly '  the  choicest  and  most  complete  general  collection  of  poetry  j'ct 
published.'  It  will  be  deemed  sufticien-.  proof  of  the  judicious  character  of  the  selec- 
tions, and  of  their  excellence,  that '  every  poem  has  taken  its  place  in  the  book  only 
after  passing  the  cultured  criticism  of  5lr.  William  Cullen  Biyant,'  whose  portrait 
constitutes  the  fitting  fnmtisjiiece  of  the  volume.  The  work  could  have  no  higher 
indorsement.  :\Ir.  liryanl's  Introductiun  to  the  volume  isamost  biautiful  and  critical 
essay  on  ])(iets  and  jmetry,  trom  the  days  of  'the  father  of  English  i)uetry  '  to  the 

present  time Su  olhfr  selection  ire  knoir  if  is  as  varied  and cumplete  as  this:  and 

it  nmst  lind  its  way  into  every  library  and"  household  where  poetry  is  read  and 
appreciated." 


This  book,  supplying  a  real  public  need  in  an  admirable  manner,  has 
constantly  sold  so  fast  that  the  publishers  have  had  trouble  to  keep  up 
their  stock.    It  has  won  an  instant  and  permanent  popularity. 

Terms  liberal.  Agents  all  like  it,  and  buyers  are  more  than  pleased 
with  it.     ^yM^  Send  for  Circular  and  Terms  to 

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Nine  Standard  Masterpieces  of  Imaginative  Literature 

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BEAUTIFULLY  ILLUSTRATED 

With  34   Full-page   Engravings  ;     executed  "by  the  best  Artists  in 

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put  forth  under  the  auspices  of  tliat  greatest  American  poet,  William  Cullex 
Bryant,  naturally  suggested  tlie  idea  of  a  corresponding  Library  of  Famous  Fiction, 
to  be  guaranteed  and  set  before  the  public  by  the  mo«t  popular  American  writer  of 
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bined the  nine  great  masterpieces  of  imaginative  prose,  embodying  in  a  single 
convenient  volume  those  Famous  Fictions  which  have  been  admired  and  loved 
always,  everywhere,  and  by  all  classes. 

Their  number  is  not  large  ;  their  names  rise  spontaneously,  and  by  common  con- 
sent, in  every  mind  :  Pilo-rim'S  Progress;  Robinson  Crusoe  ;  The  Vicar  of  Wakefield  ; 
OuUiver^s  Trarels  (revi.*ed)  ;  Paulavd  Virginia;  Picciola ;  FJiznbetli,  or  the  Exiles 
of  Siberia;  Undin' ;  Vi.thrk  ;  and  a  SelccVon  of  Taies  from  the  Arabian  Mghts''  Kn- 
t  rtainm  nis.  As  Mas.  Stowe  says  in  her  Introduction,  "  not  a  single  one  could  be 
spared  from  this  group,  in  gathering  those  volumes  of  fiction  which  the  world, 
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A   BOOK  FOH   EVEHYBOGYI 

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THE    LIFE 

OF 

JESUS   THE    CHRIST, 

BY 

HENRY   WAUD    BEECHER. 


From  the  Boston  (Mass.)  Traveller. 

"  This  work  has  a  deeper  purpose  to  serve  than  that  of  mere  ornament.  It  is  the 
product  of  a  life  of  thought  and  loving  labor  in  study  of  the  character  and  life  of  Jesus, 
and  a  remarkably  successful  career  of  presenting  it  to  the  popular  mind  in  the  min- 
istn,^  of  the  pulpit. 

"  The  demand  for  this  book  will  be  great  among  the  searchers  afrer  knowledge,  and 
it  will  be  a  standard  for  Christian  homes  and  libraries.  It  is  destined  to  exert  a  tre- 
mendous influence,  not  only  m  this  day  and  generation,  but  in  all  time." 

By  the  Rev.  Joseph  P.  Tliompson,  L.I.  I>.,  from  an  article  in  The 
Independent. 

"  That  which  first  impresses  one  in  IVIr.  Beecher's  book  is  the  maturity  of  the  work, 
both  in  its  conception  and  in  its  execution.  If  any  have  expected  to  find  in  it  rhe- 
torical fancies  s'ruck  out  at  cxtemporan"Ous  heat,  declamatory  statements  — '  the 
s|iontaneities  of  all  his  individual  personal  life  '  —projected  from  some  fusing  centre 
«'f  philosophy  within,  but  not  welded  into  logical  consistency,  they  have  yet  to  know 
jSIr.  Beecher  through  this  l)Ook,  as  working  by  method  upon  a  well-ordered  scheme 
of  thought,  and  with  a  deep  philosophic  purpose  toward  one  gnat,  ovennasteiing 
conception.  He  has  neither  tliruwn  oti'  his  random  tlmuglits  nm-  strung  together  his 
best  thoughts  ;  but  has  brouglit  all  Iiis  powers,  in  llic  iiKiturity  of  their  strength,  in 
the  richness  of  their  experience,  and  the  largeness  of  their  (levtlopment,  to  produce  a 
work  that  may  fitly  represent  the  labors  and  the  results  of  his  life." 


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THE 

CHRISTIAN    UNION 

IS  AN  UNSECTAKIAN  RELIGIOUS  WEEKLY. 

HENRY   WARD    BEECHER, 
Editor. 


This  journal  has  had  a  very  remarkable  success,  in  two  years  at- 
taining a  circulation  surpassing  that  of  any  other  religious  weekly  in 
the  world. 

WHY    IS   IT? 

Because,  First,  Henry  Ward  Beeciier  is  its  Editor,  and  his 

Editorials,  Star  Papers,  and  occasional  Literary  Reviews  and  Lecture-Room 
Talks  are  sought  for  by  thousands,  while  the  auxiliary  editorial  labor  is  in  the 
hands  of  cultivated  journalists  ;  the  COJSTTRIBUTORS  being  representadve 
men  and  women  of  JiLL  Denominations. 

Because,  Secondly,  ITS  FORM,  twenty-four  pages,  large  quarto, 
SECURELY  PASTED  AT  THE  BACK  AND  CUT  AT  THE  EDGES,  is  SO  Convenient  for  read- 
ing, binding,  and  preservation,  as  to  be  a  great  and  special  merit  in  its  favor. 

Because,  Thirdly,  It  is  called  "  the  most  Interesting  Religions  Paper 
published,'''  being  quoted  from  by  the  press  of  the  entire  country  more  exten- 
sively than  any  other.  The  critical  J^ation  (N.  Y.)  says  it  is  "  Not  only  the 
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periodicals.  At  all  events  it  is  safe  to  predict  that  it  will  soon  have,  if  it  has 
not  already,  greater  influence  than  any  other  religious  paper  in  the  country." 

Because,  Fourthly,  It  has  something  for  every  Member  of  the  Iloiise- 
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PLYMOUTH  PULPIT 

Is  a  weekly  pamphlet  Publication  of  Sermons  preached  by 

HENRY    WARD    BEECHER, 

Printed  from  Mr.  T.  J  Ellinwood's  careful,  verbatim  phonographic  reports,  taken 
down  from  the  speaker's  lips  This  issue  is  the  only  regularly  authorized  edition  of 
them,  the  one  indorsed  by  Mr.  Beechkr's  approval  as  correct,  and  sanctioned  by  his 
authority.  It  is  well  printed  on  good  papei-,  in  book  form  ;  it  is  ^vitab'e  fur  bimliitcr 
aid  preservation,  and  it  is  cheap,  within  the  reach  of  ail.  The  publishers  have  also 
responded  to  the  demand  for  a  continued  insertion  of  the  Prayers  before  and  after 
tiie  Sermon,  as  among  the  most  spiritually  profitable  of  Mr.  Beecher's  ministra- 
tions. Besides  this,  the  Scriptural  lesson  and  hymns  sung  (Plymouth  Collection) 
are  indicated,  thus  making  a  complete  record  of  one  service  of  Plymouth  Church 
fur  each  Sunday. 

CRITICAL    OPINIONS. 

BRITISH.  AMERICAN. 

"  Thev  are   magnificent  discourses.     I  "  Wc  certainly  find  in  these  sermons  a 

have  often  taken    occasion  to    say  that  great  deal  which  we  can  conscientiously 

Eeecher  is  the  greatest  preacher  that  ever  commend,  and  that  amply  justilies  tlie 

appeared  in  the  world;  this  judgment  is  exalted  position  which  their  autlior  holds 

most  soljcrly  considered  and  mo.stdeliber-  among   American   preachers.    They   are 

atelv  pronounced;  his  brilliant  fancy,  his  worthy  of  great  praise  for  the  freshness, 

O'.-ep  knowledge  of  human  nature,  his  af-  vigor,  an  t  earmstness  of  their  style;  for 

fiuent  language,  and  tlu'  many-sidedness  the  beauty  and  oftentimes  surprising  apt- 

ofhis  noble  mind,  conspire  to  place  him  at  ness  of  thiir  illustrations;  for  the  large 

the  head  of  all  Christian   speakers."—  amount  of  consolatory  and   stimulating 

Hex.  Dr.  Parkgr,  in  The  Pulpit  Analyst  thought  embodied  in  them,  and  for  the 

(Article  "  Ad  Clkrum  ").  force  and  skill  with  which  religious  con- 
siderations are  made   to  bear  upon  the 

"  These  corrected  Sermons  of  perhaps  most  common  transactions  of  life."  —  Bib- 

the  greatest  of  living  preachers,  —  a  man  liotheca  Sacra,  Andover,  Mass. 

hd'alfihUeTare  g^eaPan^d  whosTse?monl  "  I'^  ^^^^  «f  ability  and  eloquence  he 
c^mb  ne  fldehtv  trscrlotura  tm  ^^  scarcely  a  rival,  while  in  the  magnet- 

^r^;rgit?is  Siaiffion!  K&  ?s  r,^^^iUsrTfit'n""?tbs"oS?>'  s 

oric,  and  vigorous  reasoning,  with  intense    »Xd     No  nreacher  of  me  nresent  a-e 

^^  ^B^Q^a^tX^i^r^"''  IxS^es'^^o  ^"dfand  JotS?  a^.'^Sen'ce! 
bcn»e.        jjiuti/K^darterli/Keview.  ^j^,,   j^^   reaches   a   class  that  ordinary 

"  They  are  without  equal  among  the  pub-  preachers  fail  to  touch."  —  Philadelphia 

lished  sermons  of  the  day.     Everywhere  Inquirer. 

v.e  find  ourselves  in  the  hands  of  a  man  of  Mr.  Beecher  "  by  his  genius,  and  with- 
liigh  and  noble  impulses,  of  thorough  fear-  out  any  direct  ef!'ort,  has  more  influence 
b'ssness.  of  broad  and  generous  sympa-  upon  the,  ministerial  profession  than  all 
thies,  who  has  consecrated  all  his  wealth  the  iheological  seminaries  combined.  The 
of  intelligence  and  heart  to  the  service  of  discourses  are  rich  in  all  that  makes  re- 
preaching  the  Gospel."— Z,i7e/'ar//  World,  ligious  hterature  valuable."  —  67/ (ca(70 
Lonaon.  Evening  Journal. 


"Vol.  I.,  No.  1,  of   Plymouth    Pulpit    was    issued    September  26,  18G8       Each 
Folnme  contains  twenty  six  numbers,  being  one  sermon  each  week  for  six  months. 
This  gives  annually  two  volumes  of  vearlijfue  hundred  pages  each. 
See  Table  of  Subjects  on  pages  10  and  11. 

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